Honor Thy Brother
by Ardeth Saunders
Summary: Frank's twin brother, Farron, suddenly appears after a long absence from his life. (Another Donovan/Loralei fic)
1. My Brother's Keeper

**DISCLAIMER:  _UC:  Undercover_ and its cast of characters belong to the writers, creators, NBC, et. al.  However, the author would like to borrow the cast members for a little while.  There is absolutely NO infringement intended.  All other original characters belong solely to the twisted, and sometimes vivid, imagination of the author.  Rated "R" for strong language, sexual situations, and violence.**

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:  A TREMENDOUS thank you to Deana [Ardeths Lover] and Shelley [TheDreamyOne] for their advice and assistance with this plot.  I was stumped until you guys helped.  I OWE YOU!  **

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CHAPTER 1—MY BROTHER'S KEEPER 

Loralei Kadin-Donovan stood between her husband and brother in-law, feeling as if she were witnessing some type of face-off.  Her eyes went from Donovan to Farron, Farron to Donovan.  The two men were such mirror images of each other; it was enough to make her dizzy.  Neither of them had spoken one word.  Their identical chocolate brown eyes were locked.  Donovan was none too happy to see his brother, which was quite obvious.  Farron, on the other hand, stood waiting patiently, almost expectantly.  Unlike his brother, his face was smoother, not quite stressed, but not exactly soft.  Farron's eyes were sadder, though, haunted somehow.  _Would somebody say something_, she thought.  She wanted to speak, but didn't think she could.  She had known her husband had a brother, but he had never told her they were twins.  That wasn't quite right, though, was it?  Hadn't Donovan said his family had twins?  _But not his damn brother_, she thought.  Why hadn't he ever mentioned this before?  She had once thought there was very little she didn't know about the man she married, the man who fathered her child.  Suddenly, she wondered what else he had failed to tell her about his family.  _What other skeletons are you hiding_?  

Donovan glanced at his wife briefly before settling his stony gaze back onto Farron's face.  She had no way of knowing that Farron had inadvertently disclosed their address to Kelly Bartlet.  He had never told her.  Instead, he had simply buried it, so he wouldn't have to think of it ever again.  However, standing face-to-face with his estranged brother, he would have to come clean with her.  He did not intend to allow him to stay one moment in his presence; he had every intention of throwing Farron out on his ass.  Loralei wouldn't understand, but eventually, she would.  Before he had the chance to grab Farron, Loralei's voice stopped him.

"Please, come in," she said to Farron.  She had no clear idea how long he had stood at the door in the hallway.  It could have been seconds or hours.

He nodded his gratitude and stepped inside the apartment.  When she had the door closed behind him, he focused his eyes [_Frank's eyes_] on her.  "Thank you," he said softly.

_Damn, they even sound alike_, she thought.  Farron had a similar accent to Donovan, but it seemed thicker.  His voice was also less stern, mellower.  She noticed that her husband had yet to speak or to take his eyes off his brother.  Although Loralei hadn't seen, he flashed a dark look her way when she invited Farron inside.  Her congenial personality had thwarted his plans.  She moved back toward Donovan and wondered if he intended to speak to his brother at all tonight.  She knew there was something she had missed, but neither had clued her in, and she wasn't sure if they even intended to tell her what had started this family riff.  There had to be a reason.  Why else would Donovan stare so cruelly at his own flesh and blood?  Feeling more awkward and uncomfortable the longer the seconds stretched to minutes, Loralei debated whether or not she should speak.  Would he forgive her if she opened her mouth again?

Loralei turned to Farron and held out her hand.  Surprised a little by her gesture, he took her hand briefly in his.  "I'm Loralei," she said.  _Duh, as if he wouldn't know.  He did receive a wedding invitation_.

"Yes," he said.  "I wish I could say I've heard a lot about you, but I haven't," he said apologetically, with a hint of a sardonic grin.  "I'm Farron."  

Although she couldn't see it, she could feel Donovan tensing up the slightest bit at Farron's soft-spoken words.  She wasn't sure if she wanted to be present for the Donovan brother reunion, but she was a little afraid to leave Farron alone with her husband.  She had seen him angry dozens of times, but this anger was different.  "I think I need to excuse myself," she said suddenly.  "I have a busy day ahead of me.  Very nice meeting you, Farron."

Donovan looked away from Farron just long enough to watch his wife leave the room.  Once she had gone into the bedroom and had the door closed behind her, he fixed his cold stare back on his brother's face.  He was still tempted to throw him out on his ass.  If it weren't for Loralei, he would have done it already.  The only reason he held back right now was that he didn't want Loralei to hear him forcing Farron out of the apartment.  Perhaps he would grow tired of Donovan's blank stare and leave on his own accord.  However, he didn't expect it to be so easy.  It never was with Farron.

"So," Farron said, desperately needing to break the silence, "from the look of your wife, you've been quite busy."

White-hot rage entered Donovan's body.  He was surprised to note that smoke wasn't coming out of his ears.  How dare he walk into his life just out of the blue and expect the past to go away with a flip comment.  "What the hell are you doing here, Farron?  You have balls of steel to show your face."  Farron opened his mouth to respond, but Donovan held up a dismissive hand.  "I don't want to know.  I don't care to hear you or your explanation.  I am _not_ as kind as my wife.  I'm sure if she knew the truth, knew what hell you caused her, caused us, she wouldn't have been so inclined to be that kind.  You see, when my wife is needlessly hurt, it does something to me.  I tend to lose my mind and forget what I'm doing.  What you did hurt her, and I'd like for you to leave before I lose control."

Farron sighed and looked down for a moment before meeting his brother's icy gaze again.  "Frank, I came to explain, and to try to make amends.  Do you think I wanted to hurt you or your wife?  Do you think that's something I enjoy?  If you didn't want to see me or communicate with me again, why send a wedding invitation?  Why bother with any of it?"

Donovan shook his head in utter, incredulous disbelief.  A bitter, wry smile touched his lips.  "I married a wonderful woman, Farron.  Any move I made toward contacting you was done solely because of her influence.  _She _is the reason.  She is the _only _reason.  I'm not sure why you're here, Farron, but I don't believe it has anything to do with making amends.  The only time you ever darken my door is when you're in trouble.  It's something you've done your entire life.  You cannot deny this, and if you try, you're a worse liar than I ever thought."  Without another word, Donovan strode angrily to the door and opened it.  If his brother didn't exit voluntarily within the next fifteen seconds, Donovan would force him out by any means necessary.  "Get out, Farron.  Get out _now_.  If you don't, you won't be able to walk tomorrow."

Farron didn't immediately move.  He knew his brother meant everything he said.  Of course, he expected this from Frank.  He had heard about Kelly Bartlet, and was aware that she had escaped from a mental institution.  This was something he hadn't known when he received the 'innocent' phone call from her aunt.  Hell, he hadn't even known any of the history between Frank and Kelly.  If he had, he wouldn't have made such a stupid mistake.  How could he explain this to his brother when he refused to listen?  How could he patch up their shaky relationship once and for all?  "Frank, I need to-"

"The only thing you need to do is leave," Donovan said through clenched teeth.  "I've given you more time than you deserve.  This is your final warning, Farron.  I meant what I said.  I don't want you here.  I cannot stress that enough."

He sighed in resignation.  What else could he do?  Frank was right about one thing.  His wife _was_ kind.  Perhaps if he could talk to her…  Keeping his head low, keeping his eyes averted from his brother's hard gaze, he slipped past him and went out the door.  

Donovan closed the door behind him and locked it.  He was so angry he was literally shaking.  If he didn't calm down, he was afraid he'd pass out.  Quietly, he stalked over to the kitchen.  Up in a cabinet just over the refrigerator, he kept a couple of bottles of bourbon.  He rarely drank the hard stuff.  He normally only did it when he had had a particularly trying day.  This one fit that mode perfectly.  He reached up, flipped open the cabinet door, grasped the bottle, and dragged it down.  There were a set of shot glasses somewhere, but he couldn't remember where Loralei had put them.  She had stashed away all the hard booze when she discovered she was pregnant.  She liked having a shot now and then, and she declared that if she couldn't have it, neither could he.  Giving up on the shot glasses [_fuck it_], he opened the dishwasher and retrieved a clean glass from inside.  He poured an amount equal to what he considered to be a shot in the glass, debated for a moment, and then added another shot for good measure.  He picked up the glass and drained it in one gulp.  The amber liquid burned as it went down his throat.  It immediately warmed him.  He was tempted to drink more, but he didn't need a hangover on top of everything else.

He couldn't believe how innocently the night began, how _normally_ it had begun.  However, it had all gone down the tubes in a very short time.  Muttering under his breath [_fuck it_], he poured more of the amber liquid into the glass and drank it down quickly.  It had been a good five months since he had had bourbon, and it went to his head a bit faster than he expected.  He had to stop right then and there.  If he didn't, he might drink until he passed out.  He hadn't done that in years.  He put the glass in the sink, but left the bottle sitting on the counter.  If his mood didn't improve, he might need more.  He hit the light in the living room, and he was suddenly surrounded in darkness.  The bourbon had rushed into his bloodstream at an alarming pace.  It didn't matter.  He needed to get into the shower, and then he'd feel better.  

When Donovan entered the bedroom, he wasn't surprised to see that Loralei was awake and awaiting him.  He didn't speak to her.  He sat on his side of the bed and began the task of removing his shoes and socks.  Suddenly, a shower seemed as close to heaven as he could get.  He could feel Loralei's eyes on him, but she had yet to say anything.  He supposed she was waiting for him to make the first move.  He wouldn't, not tonight.  He was in no mood to discuss his brother with her.  He didn't want to tell her what Farron had done.  It had been a while since Loralei had even thought about Kelly Bartlet or Carly Butler.  If he mentioned Farron's misdeed, he would dredge up thoughts best left in the past.  He had no desire to relive those horrors, and he was certain Loralei wanted no part of it, either.  They had paid their dues to those witches, and had lost so much in the process.  Fighting off alcohol-induced dizziness, he pulled his shirt out of his slacks and began unbuttoning it.  He could still feel his wife's eyes on him, studying him, perhaps debating whether or not she should say something.  Unconsciously, he wanted her to speak.  He wanted her to know, but he didn't want to volunteer the information.  It wasn't something she really needed to hear, especially considering that this crazy shit had caused her to miscarry their first child.

Loralei watched as he unbuttoned his shirt with jerky, impatient motions.  At any moment now, she expected him to start ripping at the shirt.  She could easily see that he was extremely pissed off, but she didn't understand.  She was aware that Donovan and his brother had issues, but she didn't know what had set him off tonight.  Before they married, he rarely mentioned his brother.  He talked about his sisters all the time, but only spoke about Farron in passing.  When she suggested that he invite Farron to the wedding, he had balked at first.  He loved his brother, he made that no secret, but he wasn't sure how he felt about him attending the wedding.  Of course, Loralei was stubborn, and she pushed until he relented.  It disturbed her when he wouldn't discuss what had caused the riff between him and Farron.  He wasn't ready to share that part of his history with her, and she didn't know if he'd ever be ready.  It was one tiny piece of his heart he refused to let her inside.  Quietly, she watched as he stripped off his shirt and threw it to the floor.  He stood then and removed his slacks with the same ripping, impatient motions.  Usually meticulous about his clothing [as he was about everything], he had piled everything up onto the floor instead of putting it into the hamper beside the closet.  The only time he ever threw his things around carelessly was when they made spontaneous love.

Completely naked now, he sat on the side of the bed again and leaned over with his face in his hands.  The bourbon had done a nice job on him.  His brain felt hot and sticky.  Behind him, he felt Loralei stir.  He sighed heavily when she reached out and laid a comforting hand on his back, just between his shoulders.  She remained silent, not uttering a single syllable; she allowed her touch to speak for her, and her love for him was clearly broadcast in her simple gesture.  He turned toward her and took her into his arms.  He didn't want to speak, move, or breathe.  All he wanted was to hold Loralei, to be held by her.

After several minutes, he reluctantly released her.  When he pulled back to look at her, he noticed that she was crying a little, shedding tears over his discord.  She thoroughly amazed him sometimes.  She was completely inside his mind and heart, and the incredible love he felt for her was overwhelming.  He cupped her face in his hands and wiped her tears away with his thumbs.  "Don't cry.  I'm okay."

"I don't think you are," she said softly.  "And I can't help but cry.  Since I became pregnant, I cry when the mail is late," she said trying to smile.

He kissed her very gently, his lips barely touching hers.  "Get some rest, Loralei," he said as he pulled away.  "I need to get into the shower.  I had some bourbon, and I think it may have been too much."

She watched as he moved away from her and walked toward the bathroom.  She _was_ tired, but she was also worried about her husband.  Rest wouldn't be an option right now.  Despite what he said, despite his bravado, she knew he was hurting.  She didn't make one move until she heard the steady hissing noise of the shower.

Donovan turned when the shower door opened.  With a lifted eyebrow, he stared at his wife almost comically.  He wasn't surprised that she hadn't listened to him.  She refused to let him stew in his own juices, and for that, he was profoundly grateful.  Turning toward her, she slipped easily into his arms.  "You can't leave it alone, can you," he asked, not unkindly.

"What kind of partner would I be if I did?  Can you tell me that," she asked with a gentle smile.  "Besides, pretty soon, I won't be able to fit in here with you."  Her arms came up and went around his neck before she kissed him.  

During the kiss, he pressed her body against the shower wall as the hot water continued to spray down on his back.  Instinctively, her legs came up to encircle his waist.  His arms went around her buttocks to support her.  She could feel him hardening against her as his lips continued to devour hers ever so passionately.  She allowed one of her hands to slip down his side before progressing to his hip, then finally settling on his left buttock.  She dug her fingernails into it, and he gasped a little against her lips.  He broke the kiss and maintained his hold on her with one arm as his other moved toward the front of his body.  A few moments later, she felt the turgid part of his anatomy demanding access inside her, and of course, she willingly obliged.  Who wouldn't?

*  *  *

Later, neither Loralei nor Donovan could sleep.  She lay snuggled against his warm back, in the best position in the world, with the most wonderful man she had ever known.  Yet, she could not drift off to sleep, despite their intense lovemaking.  She knew he wasn't asleep.  His breathing had yet to slow and every now and then, he would fidget just the slightest bit.  He was restless, but didn't want to move because he was afraid he'd disturb her.

"Give it up, baby, I know you're awake," she whispered.  "Are you going to talk to me?  Whatever it is, I can take it."

He sighed a little.  Did she know?  Had she figured him out?  "I know you can, but it's only going to dredge up events best left alone right now."

"Which one is it, Frank?  Kelly Bartlet or Black Heart," she asked suddenly.

He shifted his position a little so he could turn to his back.  She propped her body up on one elbow and rested her other hand on his chest.  "Kelly Bartlet," he said with a sigh.

"What does your brother have to do with her?"

"Apparently, the aunt who mailed those cards for her found my brother.  He gave the woman our address, and she gave it to Kelly.  He shouldn't have done it, Loralei, he knows that he can't tell just anybody where I am, but he did.  His actions, his stupidity, led to all the pain and grief we've both endured.  He helped lead Black Heart right to us.  That is one thing I cannot forgive, I _will not_ forgive."

"Did he know what happened between you and Kelly?"

His hand came up toward his chest where her hand rested.  He covered it with his.  "No.  He knew we were involved, but he didn't know that she tried to kill me, and no one knew that she went to a mental institution.  I never told anyone."

"Frank, he's your brother, and I can't tell you how to feel about him, but how was he supposed to know that she would come back and try to hurt you?  You didn't tell him.  Doesn't that say something to you?"

He shook his head.  "No, Loralei, it doesn't.  He shouldn't have done it, even if Kelly hadn't been disturbed.  I won't talk to him again, not after this."

"Isn't that a bit harsh," she asked.  "He made a mistake.  Maybe he wants to correct it.  He's your brother, Frank, your _twin_.  He's a part of you, a part of your life.  Should you cut him off like that?"

"Yes," he said shortly.  "I should, I can, and I have.  You don't understand, Loralei.  Farron has always managed to fuck up his life, and in the process, he's fucked up mine more times than I care to count."

She searched his face in the dark.  His eyes were fixed, vicious, and cold.  It wasn't directed at her, of course, but it was still unnerving.  "What happened?"

"I love you so very much, but I don't want to talk about this right now.  I hope you understand," he said softly; the harsh tone had left his voice.

She didn't understand, but she wouldn't push.  He would eventually tell her in his own sweet time, he always did.  "Okay."

"For the last time, Loralei, go to sleep," he said, trying to smile.

His humor was forced, and the sadness in his voice broke her heart a little.  She laid her head on his chest and allowed his heartbeat to lull her to sleep.


	2. Go Between

CHAPTER 2—GO BETWEEN

Donovan came awake slowly.  His head thumped only a little bit from his slight overindulgence of alcohol.  He picked up his wristwatch and glanced at it.  Barely past four thirty in the morning, he still had a few moments more before he needed to rise.  The tension from the night before had exhausted him, and he was tempted to stay home today.  However, he couldn't do that.  Some huge, complicated case was expected to filter to the team this morning, and he needed to be present.  He glanced over at Loralei.  Some time in the night, she had disconnected her body from his and now lay on her back with one hand resting protectively over her swollen abdomen.  Gazing down at her, his mind went back to the horrible tension from the night before.  No matter how hard he tried, the anger would not leave him.  He hoped Farron had taken the hint and had caught the next plane back to Tampa where he belonged.  He sighed and shook his head.  Work would definitely drive thoughts of his brother out of his mind, and hopefully, his life.  Donovan leaned over Loralei and lifted her hand.  He pressed his lips briefly to her palm before lowering his head to place a gentle kiss on her stomach.  After he laid her hand back over her middle, he drew away reluctantly.  He swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat up.  There was no use trying to go back to sleep; there was really not enough time for it anyway.  He stood and walked toward the bathroom, carrying his discarded clothing from the night before.  For five months, his life had settled down; he had felt grounded and painfully happy.  But now, yet another ghost from his past threatened to destroy the stability in which he had grown accustomed.  Would it ever end?  At the bathroom door, he glanced over his shoulder at his sleeping wife.  Then and there, he made a vow.  Nothing, absolutely _nothing_ would ever harm her again, even if it meant forever keeping his private life separate from his work, even if it meant never allowing Loralei to set foot inside the nest.  He had worn two hats before, and it wouldn't be difficult to do again.

Loralei awoke just as Donovan was stepping into his shoes.  For once, he had gotten himself together in almost total darkness.  Usually, he didn't hesitate to pop on the bedroom or bathroom light.  He thoroughly enjoyed the game that had become a frequent part of their morning routine.  On more than one occasion, he would wake her up the first thing, and drag her off into the shower with him.  In fact, she was pretty sure she had gotten pregnant during one of those morning shower sessions.  His break from routine worried her.  It meant that something was not right with him.  His back was turned to her, and he didn't immediately notice her.  She stared at him for a long time, willing him to look at her.  She needed to see his face and eyes.  She had to know if he was okay.  She knew he hadn't been last night.  She sat up fully and purposely cleared her throat to let him know [with little subtlety] that she was awake.  He didn't immediately turn toward her.  She watched as he shook his head a little, and she could almost see the smile that was touching his lips.

"You're not one for subtlety, are you," he asked as he turned toward her.

She sighed.  "There you go, reading my mind again.  You look tired, Frank," she said, and meant it.  The dark circles under his eyes showed her more than he would ever say.  He obviously had slept very little.  "Maybe you should stay home."

He shook his head.  "Can't do that.  I have lots to do today.  I'll be all right.  Maybe today, I'll come in early."

She smiled ruefully.  "Every time you say that, you _always_ come in late."

He approached the bed and leaned over as far as he dared before placing a soft kiss on her forehead.  "You know me too well," he said as he drew back.  "I want to tell you everything, Loralei, but I have to work it out in my head first.  Do you understand?"

"I do," she said with a firm nod.  "It's okay.  Do what you must, I just hate seeing you like this."

"I know you do, but don't worry about me.  I've carried some of this my entire life.  I'm not accustomed to opening my past.  I've not done it often, and have never done it with any woman in my life.  You're different, Loralei.  I've not had a relationship to ever reach the depth of ours.  Never have I felt like this.  Never have I had anything so beautiful."

Incredibly touched, she fought desperately against her impending tears.  _Hormones be damned_, she thought.  "I suggest you leave, Agent Donovan," she said softly.  "If you don't, I'm going to fuck your brains right out of your head."

A ghost of a smile touched his lips and he kissed her forehead again.  Without another word, he drew away and left her.

*  *  *

Loralei and Donovan weren't the only people up and at it early.  Farron Donovan stood naked before a window in his high-rise hotel room.  He didn't bother getting dressed.  Not exactly modest, he knew that no one could see him at this height anyway.  Like his twin, he was still disturbed and shaken from the night before.  Everything Frank had said about him was true.  

Farron was the older of the two twins, born three minutes before Frank.  When they were young boys, his mother often told him that he was his brother's keeper.  It was his responsibility, so to speak, to look out for Frank.  Their parents hadn't necessarily favored one brother over the other, but the rest of the family did.  At first, it was Farron who showed an aptitude toward greatness.  Everything came very easily to him, and he never appreciated it.  Frank, on the other hand, had to struggle.  His brother had amazing strength and persistence, but sometimes, things just didn't quite work out like he wanted.  However, when the brothers grew older, things began to turn around.  Frank was the serious one, always brooding, never flexible.  He knew what he wanted out of life, and he wasn't afraid to fight to get it.  Farron was never interested in the same things as Frank, and that tended to get him into trouble.  Farron's failures and Frank's successes began to wear on him, and he grew extremely jealous of his younger twin.  He began to want everything Frank had, including girls.  Farron couldn't count the number of times he had stepped in and stolen one of Frank's girlfriends just because he could.  Of course, this behavior often hurt Frank, and ended up making Farron feel worse.  He didn't enjoy hurting his brother, but he often did anyway, even if it wasn't his intention.  Frank had, in effect, become Farron's keeper.  It became a pattern that followed the brothers until each left home.

He found himself staring out onto the busy city street.  His mind went back continuously to his heated reunion with Frank.  It hadn't gone as he expected.  Of course, he wasn't naïve enough to think that Frank would welcome him back with open arms, but he thought he would at least _listen_ to what he had to say.  He had been wrong, completely and totally wrong.  Frank had changed since he last saw him.  At that time, he hadn't married yet, and didn't seem to have a reason to react so over protectively.  The visit had been strained, but nothing like the one last night.  True, he had shared personal information he had no right disperse.  Yet, he wondered if Frank would have reacted like he did if he had still been single.  His brother was never less than protective with what he loved and/or held dear, but he also never turned his back on family, even when the situation was bad.  The sad truth was that he _needed_ his brother's help, _needed_ to make amends.  He had gotten himself into a deadly mess that he couldn't get out of without losing his life.  He wanted help, and had come to Frank, to his family, but had been coldly denied.  

Sighing deeply, Farron moved back from the window.  He grabbed a robe and shrugged into it.  He currently had few options remaining.  If he couldn't convince Frank to help him, he wasn't sure what he could do or to whom he could turn.  He thought again of Frank's wife.  She had run interference between him and Frank before, and perhaps she could do it again.  He would see her today, get acquainted with her, and ask for her help.  If Frank would listen to anyone, it would be her.  Farron knew this, had sensed it immediately when his brother spoke of her, and had seen it when she was in the room.  If he couldn't get what he wanted directly, he wasn't above seeking an alternate source.  It was true that he wanted to make amends.  Since the entire ordeal with Kelly Bartlet had unfolded, he felt horrid.  He hadn't heard directly what had happened to Frank and Loralei.  He had gotten a phone call from his sister, and she gave him the sordid details.  He hadn't known much about his relationship with Kelly.  That was part of Frank's life after he left home for good.  It came right after…  _Must not think about that right now_, he thought.  Although Farron would never recognize it, he was like his brother in another way.  He often buried events in his mind and would not bring them to the surface unless forced.

*  *  *

Although stressed, Donovan strolled casually into the office and appeared as if he had not one care in the world.  No one had made it in yet, and he wasn't surprised.  He normally came to work early every day.  He had to have downtime before the work piled in.  Occasionally, he would go to his office and meditate for several minutes.  It was usually the only time he was left alone.  He thought of it as his 'sane' time, and every now and then, he desperately needed it, because his line of work never failed to be insane.  He couldn't prevent thoughts of Farron from entering his mind.  He didn't want to waste any more of his energy on his brother.  Taking several deep breaths, he slowly calmed down.  It was time to go downstairs and prepare for the briefing.  The directives from the central office were to be delivered at any moment.  He had to get his shit together before he tackled another difficult situation.  He also hoped that whatever the assignment brought, it wouldn't include a trip out of town.  He didn't trust Farron, especially not after the trick he pulled with regard to Kelly Bartlet.  It wasn't that he thought his brother would ever dare touch his wife, but he was certain that Farron wouldn't hesitate to use her for some other deed, including a rapprochement.  He didn't want her needlessly placed in the middle of their battle.  She didn't need it, and he wouldn't do that to her.

He made his way downstairs and silently set about the task of making coffee.  He was hell-bent not to allow Cody access to the machine.  A computer genius he was, a coffee maker he definitely was not.  He looked up as a computer in the corner of the room made several sharp beeps.  It was busily downloading data from central.  It was obviously the new case.  He wasn't anxious to begin something new.  They had enough pending cases to last them five lifetimes, but this one was deemed a priority.  He hated those cases, absolutely loathed them.  No priority case ever came from Chicago.  He was in no hurry to pack and leave his wife behind.  Thoughts of sending Loralei to her parents began to emerge, but she would fight it.  He also remembered what happened the last time he had tried sending her away.  He shook his head.  _Nope, that wouldn't work_.  Not only that, but it would also disrupt her classes, and he didn't want to interfere with that, either.  He found himself torn two ways at once.  _Damn you, Farron, why must you insist on ruining my life_.  

Donovan approached the computer and hit a key to bring the screen to life.  He normally didn't mess around with the machines; he left the techno wizard stuff to Cody.  If he touched anything, Cody would fly into a panicked rage.  He studied the screen curiously, reading over a few things that drew his interest.  As soon as Monica arrived, he would request a profile of the prime suspect.  He groaned when he realized that the case centered in Florida.  Perhaps he would send only Jake and Alex, but he was afraid that wouldn't do.  Donovan backed away from the computer before Cody caught him mucking around it.  He wondered how Loralei would take the news that he had to leave.  _She'll take it like she always does.  It's your job, it's what you do, and she understands_.  Yes, she understood, she always did.  It was what he loved most about her.  He shook thoughts of Loralei away for the time being.  His mind needed to remain open and alert on the job at hand.  He looked up as Monica entered the room.  He was pleased that she had arrived as soon as she did.  She jumped at the new case and immediately set about digging up the information he requested.  He hoped that by the time Jake, Alex, and Cody arrived, she would have completed the task, and worked the magic only she could.

*  *  *

"This is mob stuff, Boss, why did it filter to us," Jake asked as he read over the information printed directly off the computer.

"Why is anything filtered to us," Alex asked.  "Because we're _special_."

Jake rolled his eyes, and a hint of a smile touched Donovan's lips.  

"The man we're looking for is Pablo Dominguez," Monica said.  "He is a trained hit man of sorts, and he's suspected of taking out his own boss.  He isn't afraid of much at this point, and he has nothing to lose.  Several weeks ago, Dominguez became the top suspect in the shooting of Ramon Ramirez."  The name meant nothing to the other members of the team, so Monica sighed impatiently and continued, "Come on, guys, Ramon Ramirez.  He's a very powerful Florida politician.  He also has ties to the Colombian drug trade."

The mention of Florida startled Donovan a little.  It made him think of Farron.  _Farron?  In the drug trade?  Impossible_, he thought.  Farron had issues, but surely he wouldn't go _that_ far, would he?  Donovan then recalled Farron's past.  Perhaps it wasn't so unfathomable after all.  He shook his head absently, once again trying to drive the thoughts out of his mind.  

Jake looked up, perplexed.  "Colombian drug trade?  You mean to tell me that Colombians still dabble in that shit?  I thought that ended with Pablo Escobar."

"Very ill informed, aren't you Jake," Cody spat sarcastically.  "They still rule some of the trade in those border states, and Florida is a border state.  Guns for drugs, drugs for guns.  Get it?  It's the rule of the land in certain areas of Central and South America."

"Excuse me," Jake spat, not unkindly.

"Dominguez took out Ramirez, probably as payback for some type of misdeed or disloyalty," Monica said, continuing, "and he's on the run.  There was mention of a witness, but we have no information on who that might be or where he or she may have gone."

"Cody," Donovan said suddenly, "I need everything you can find regarding this shooting.  I want the name of every associate Ramirez had.  If we find anything on the witness, I want to know immediately.  I want a description, and an estimation of his or her age, and so on.  Whoever it is, this person needs to be secured and protected."

"On it, Boss, two day ago," Cody replied smartly.

"So, are we Florida bound," Alex asked.

Donovan sighed.  "More than likely."

*  *  *

Loralei threw her bag over her shoulder impatiently.  It weighed a ton and had twice as many books in it.  Her classes had seemed longer than usual.  Normally, she enjoyed attending class, but not today.  Her energy level was down to zero, which was another odd thing.  Her pregnancy had started out with horrible yuckiness and exhaustion that had recently changed to sudden, incredible energy.  _Just not today_, she thought.  Sighing, she dug her keys out of her bag and dropped them before she could even begin unlocking the door.  Ugh.  She would have to put down the book bag only to lift it again after she picked up her damn keys.

"Let me help with that," Donovan's voice said from behind her.

She smiled at his sudden surprising appearance, and she turned around, ready to lay a big sloppy kiss on him.  Her smile faltered a little when she realized that it was Farron, _not _her husband.  He didn't wait for her to speak, he simply took hold of the heavy bag and retrieved her keys.  He straightened his tall frame and held out her key ring without handing her the bag.

"Thank you," she said as she took the key ring.  Farron Donovan unnerved her.  How could another man be so much like her husband and _not_ be he?

He nodded thoughtfully.  "I know I shouldn't be here, but I'd like to talk to you.  Is that okay?"

She wasn't sure what to do.  She had no idea when Donovan would come home, but if he saw Farron in the apartment, he would literally blow up.  "Of course it's okay," she said after hesitating for a few moments.  She turned away for a moment and unlocked the door.  

Farron entered the apartment behind her and set her bag near the couch.  Loralei closed the door behind him, but stood near it.  She wasn't sure why she didn't move away from the door, unless she wanted to barricade it in case Donovan saw what she had done.  He would certainly flip.  "Would you like to sit down," she asked.

"Yes, thank you," he said before sitting on the couch.

Loralei didn't want to stare at him, but she couldn't help it.  She tore her eyes off him and moved over to the computer desk.  She pulled out her executive chair and sat down.  She would sit on the plushy couch and its matching chairs only in Donovan's presence.  It was becoming quite interesting getting up once she sat down.  She didn't want to embarrass herself in front of this stranger who was identical to the man she loved.  "I'm not sure why you want to talk to me," she said suddenly.

He ran his hand thoughtfully over his beard for a moment [_ACK, Frank again_].  "I understand your confusion.  Frank made it clear that it was you who prompted the wedding invitation."

"Well, I wouldn't say _prompted_.  I simply made a suggestion, but he sent it of his own free will.  I'm sure you know how stubborn he is, and it's difficult getting him to do _anything_ unless he wants to do it," she began.

Farron nodded and smiled ruefully.  "Yes, Frank is quite stubborn, very set in his ways for a man his age.  I suppose that's why he refuses to speak to me.  I came today to apologize for what happened.  I tried to apologize to my brother last night, but he wouldn't have it."

"Yeah, that's Frank all right.  It's not necessary to apologize to me.  I realize that what you did wasn't a malicious act on your part.  It wasn't a smart choice, but I also know that you had no idea that Kelly Bartlet was so imbalanced."

"You're a very reasonable woman," he said as he shifted his position to lean forward.  "You're a good match for my brother."

She found herself lifting her eyebrow [_Damn you, Frank, now **I'm **doing it_] and peering at him curiously.  He had a bottom line.  She could see that easily.  "What is it that you want from me, Farron?"

"I would like for you to help me.  I know Frank loves you very much, and if anyone could convince him to speak to me, it would be you.  I hate asking this of you, especially since we don't know each other, but would you consider speaking to Frank on my behalf?"

He was asking quite a lot of her, but his sincerity touched her.  She was tempted to ask him what had caused their falling out, but she hesitated.  He wouldn't tell her, but Donovan would.  "I can't promise anything," she said, "but I'll try."

"Thank you," he said.  "That's all I ask.  I want to make this up to him, to you, any way I can," he said softly.  He stood and approached her.

Loralei watched in stunned silence as he offered his hand to her.  She wasn't sure what he intended to do, but she took it anyway.  He held her hand briefly in his before releasing it.  For a moment, she thought he was going to kiss it.  _Wouldn't Frank just **love** that_, she thought wryly.  

"I hope we can get past this bitterness and anger.  I very much want to have my brother in my life again, and I appreciate your agreeing to help, even if he refuses."  He stepped back to make his exit, and Loralei started to rise.  "No, I can show myself out," he said.

Quietly, she watched as her haunted brother in-law made his exit.  "Fine mess you've gotten yourself into this time, Loralei," she said.       


	3. A Brother's Betrayal

CHAPTER 3—A BROTHER'S BETRAYAL

The moment Donovan inserted his door key into the lock, he felt himself smiling a little.  He glanced down at his watch and noticed it was almost midnight.  He recalled Loralei stating earlier that he wouldn't come in early, and of course, she had been right.  There had been a ton of things to do before arranging the trip to Florida.  He had tried desperately to get out of going along, but his arguments had been futile.  He would have to accompany his team, no questions asked.  They were set to leave in two days.  Sighing a little, he unlocked the door and opened it.  As he stepped into the living room, he noticed that Loralei had decided to wait up for him, but she had fallen asleep on sentry duty.  Her body was curled up in the very corner of the couch.  For once, there was no pile of books surrounding her, and he was glad.  Although she would argue against him until her face turned blue, he thought she was pushing herself too hard.  _I'm pregnant, Donovan, not disabled_, she often said.  Be that as it may, he couldn't help but voice his concerns, especially considering what happened with her first pregnancy.  He threw his keys on the credenza by the door and slowly approached the couch.  He leaned over her and touched her shoulder.

"Loralei?"

At the sound of his dreamy voice drifting down into her ear, her eyes opened.  "So much for coming home early, huh?"  She stifled a yawn behind her hand.  "Sit down, I need to tell you something."

He smiled a little.  "What?  You're pregnant?"

"Haha, very funny.  You've been hanging out with Cody too much," she said, rolling her eyes dramatically.  "I'm serious, Frank, we need to talk."

He nodded and wiped the smile off his face.  When she straightened her body up a bit, he sat beside her and drew her legs across his lap.  "I was just about to say the same thing to you," he said.  "My news isn't so good, so maybe you should start."

She sighed.  Her news wasn't so great, either.  How could she even begin?  Once she told him Farron had paid a visit to her, he would lose it.  "Well, I'm not sure if what I need to tell you is good or bad.  I see it as good, but I don't think you'll feel the same.  I had a visitor earlier today."

Loralei watched as Donovan's facial expression changed from one of patient curiosity to insane rage.  She didn't have to utter a syllable of Farron's name.  He knew immediately who the visitor had been.  "You let him in," he spat.  His breathing was heavy, but controlled.  He had clenched his teeth together tightly, and she was afraid that if he didn't stop, every tooth in his mouth would crack under the pressure.  "He had no right to come here, Loralei.  No right at all.  What did he do?  What did he say?  No," he said suddenly.  "Don't tell me, I already know."  He stopped speaking for a moment and shook his head.  He moved her legs off his lap and stood up.  Donovan wasn't sure where he intended to go, but he made his way toward the cabinet where his bourbon awaited.  It was an all too easy fix.  Stopping himself, he turned toward her and leaned against the breakfast bar that separated the kitchen from the living room.

"I'm sorry, Frank," she said suddenly.  "I wanted to hear him out, and I wanted to help him, to help you both.  I think you should at least listen to what he has to say.  What could it hurt?"

He rubbed the nape of his neck and continued to grit his teeth angrily.  If Farron were to appear right now, he wouldn't hesitate to beat him senseless.  He figured that his brother wouldn't go back home until he completed whatever game he wanted to play.  There was no way he would allow either himself or his wife to become Farron's pawns.  Another thought entered his mind.  He had to go away in two days.  Farron would surely return in his absence.  "Don't _ever _let him come here again.  Don't _ever_ speak to him again."

Loralei stubbornly crossed her arms over her chest.  "Is that a direct order, Agent Donovan," she spat angrily, fixing him with a heated gaze.  "You've always been protective, but you've never ordered me about as if I were some _subordinate_ under your tutelage.  You may rule over your team with an iron fist, but at home, it ain't happening.  You will either leave it at the door or you're going to find yourself sleeping on the couch throughout the duration of this marriage."

_Way to go_, he thought.  Every now and then, he had great difficulty expressing himself, and he had put his foot in his mouth more times than he could count on his fingers and toes.  They had never had a problem communicating, but at times, he allowed his inflexible side to show.  Normally, he _did _leave it at the door, just not today.  For a moment, he chewed thoughtfully on his bottom lip.  "That's not what I meant," he said.  His voice was gentler, but still angered.

"No?  Then what did you mean, Agent Donovan," she spat.  "Please, do tell me what you meant, Boss."  She wasn't necessarily angry.  She was more hurt than anything.

He shook his head and then rubbed the bridge of his nose.  _Boss_.  It was what the team sometimes called him.  Jake had started it, and the others picked it up.  Jake had begun to use 'Boss' just after Donovan took over the SOU, especially when they locked horns.  It was irritating when the agent said it with intentional negative connotations, but nerve wracking to hear it come from Loralei's lips.  Either unwittingly or no, she had uttered it in the very same tone of voice that drove him up the wall.  He dropped his hands and focused his eyes on her face.  "Would you please let me explain?"

Loralei relaxed her tense body just a bit, but she kept her arms crossed tightly.  "I'm waiting."

Donovan didn't make a move toward approaching her.  He was a little hesitant.  She might take a wild hair and knock his lights out.  "You know how I feel about him right now.  We have discussed this already.  I've told you how my brother's mind works.  He's manipulative, Loralei, and an opportunist.  He cannot speak to me because I won't let him.  What does he do?  He turns to you, because he knows that you don't know him or his motivation.  He's here because he's in trouble.  No more, no less.  If he weren't in trouble, he wouldn't have come at all with the claim that he wants to make amends.  Farron is far too selfish for that.  I didn't want you unnecessarily dragged into the middle of this, but it happened anyway.  I don't want him here, and I don't want him using you for his own needs.  His presence here today was a play on your sympathy.  Do you understand?  Do you now see why I said that?  It simply didn't come out the way I intended.  This hasn't been one of my better days."

"I understand," she said.  

Her voice had a flat quality about it that he didn't like, and he clearly recognized it as yet another cue to her emotions.  He had hurt her.  Of course, he had done so inadvertently, but it didn't matter.  She was hurt all the same, and he was disgusted with himself.  His news wouldn't improve the situation.  Setting it aside for the time being, he approached the couch and stood directly in front of her.  She had yet to uncross her arms, but her eyes were focused on his.  He was relieved to note that she wasn't so angry that she refused to look at him.  For two minutes or more, he stood before her without speaking or moving.  He half expected her to send her fist flying directly into his groin.  She stared up at him so long that her neck was getting a cramp.  She didn't mind playing his little game of establishing dominance.  They had played it a few times at the beginning of their relationship, specifically after he discovered her status as an agent.  A certain look came into his eyes and on his face during those moments.  It was one she could never describe thoroughly, but she could immediately recognize it.  His eyes would have a cold hint of stoniness, and seemingly change from chocolate brown to black.  His lips would press into a tight, grim line, nearly disappearing altogether.  His nostrils would flare, and his breathing would become shallow and erratic.  It almost seemed as if he were in some type of catatonic state.  However, tonight, she didn't see that look at all.  Suddenly, she understood that he knew every emotion rushing through her.  She had transmitted it through her eyes and body language.  He had picked up on every subtle hint, every tiny move.  She would never have the ability to hide anything from him, nor would she ever try again.

He reached out for her hand and she allowed him to take it into his.  Slowly, he brought her up to her feet so she could face him.  "I'm sorry, Loralei.  I shouldn't hurt you because of the anger I feel toward Farron.  It's not you.  It's him.  If he approaches you again, ask that he deal with me directly.  He has never had any problem finding me.  I won't have it any other way.  Don't let him use you.  If you let him in once, you will be vulnerable to him time and time again."

"_What_ did he do?  _Tell_ me," she said.

"He betrayed me, Loralei.  He betrayed me in the worst way a brother could," he said.  He stopped speaking after that.  He grew distant and foggy.

Loralei had noticed that the words had flowed out of him slowly, painfully.  It seemed as if each word had been wrenched forcefully and stubbornly from the dark recesses of his brain.  She wondered how often he opened that hellish pit.  She had learned that Donovan could withstand a tremendous amount of pain, and had the unique ability to bury it so deeply inside that it would take dozens of tools and extreme patience to uncover it.  She had managed to scratch out tiny bits and pieces of his well hidden grief, but there was so much more she hadn't unearthed, so much more she would likely never discover.  

She took his other hand in hers and held onto them tightly.  "Frank, you said you wanted to tell me.  Earlier, you weren't ready.  Whether you're consciously aware of it or not, I can see that right now, you _are_ ready.  How can I understand if you won't let me in?  Didn't we once promise each other that we would never hold back?  That we would never let things we need to say pass us by?  _Talk_ to me.  _Let me in_."

Donovan nodded solemnly and seated her back on the couch.  He sat beside her, facing her, never losing physical contact with her body.  "The first time I ever took a bullet, I was still just a kid.  At that time, I hadn't even _thought_ about joining the Academy.  I was nearly gunned down by bullets that were meant for Farron, and he left me to die…"

*  *  *

Frank had paid a rare visit home during a short break in his college schedule.  Normally, he stayed on campus and worked steadily and tirelessly.  He had lofty ambitions and wanted to meet every goal he had set regardless of the degree of difficulty.  However, he had to admit it was nice to come home once in awhile and leave the hectic crap behind.  When all the kids were home, his mother tended to go nuts and would cook a gigantic meal, enough to feed an entire army.  She did everything for her children when all of them were home, even breaking her back to make their beds.  Frank's two younger sisters had yet to leave home, but they were slated to leave the nest next year to chase after their own dreams.  Both Farron and Frank were infrequent visitors.  Frank was always away at school, and Farron was off doing whatever it was that he did.  No one could keep track of Farron's various career changes, because it varied from day-to-day.  Farron had tried his hand at almost everything imaginable, including attending acting classes.  However, he could not stick with just one thing.  Farron was the free spirit of the Donovan bunch, and he refused to tie himself down.  His new career would have sent the entire family off the deep end, especially Frank, who had aspirations to attend law school at Harvard.

Before the Donovan brothers graduated high school, Farron had become acquainted with a classmate who seemed to have everything.  He drove his own car [in fact, he had a new one every year], wore the most expensive clothes, and threw gigantic parties at his own hideaway in the woods.  The kid was only about eighteen, but he had lived the life of a man twice his age.  Farron was interested.  He wanted to know how this kid had gotten everything he wanted without having rich parents.  Farron snuck out one night to attend one of the kid's parties.  Never in his life had he seen so many people, so much booze, and so much decadence.  It was also his first exposure to drugs.  There was a large buffet table loaded with hospitality bowls filled with pills, a dense white powder, and dots of mescaline.  The kid, the host of the party, was a gregarious fellow named Niko Rivera.  Farron then understood how Niko had made his young way in the world.  It was a world in which Farron wanted to belong.

Farron befriended the boy; he soon discovered that Niko was working for a drug dealer.  Niko was the middleman for an influential crime boss that he would never name directly.  Farron didn't immediately immerse himself in Niko's world of drugs.  He actually didn't want to rock the foundation at home just yet.  His family was highly disappointed that he hadn't chosen to go to college as his brother had.  Farron didn't need college to make his own life.  He didn't want to be tied down to another four years of schooling.  Leave that shit to Frank; he was suited to that environment.  Farron waited until he was out of school before he asked Niko to take him on and teach him the trade.  Niko was surprised that Farron Donovan would make such a request.  After all, everyone knew that his twin brother was a straight-laced good kid who wanted to be on the right side of the law.  They thought that Farron would be the same, but he wasn't.  He had no intention of ever following along with his brother.  If Frank wanted to go to college, Farron wouldn't dare apply to a single school.  If Frank wanted to be an attorney, Farron wanted to be the guy in need of an attorney, and so on.  Niko agreed to introduce Farron to the man who literally monopolized the drug trade in their state.

Enrique Vasquez was a former Bolivian citizen who had illegally entered the United States back in the fifties.  In his homeland, he was already a criminal, and his shady dealings followed him.  He had the habit of recruiting young kids to distribute the drugs that were pipelined straight from South America.  Kids were expendable and stupid.  They had the ability to find customers anywhere they went.  Niko was a member of his family, and of course, he was always willing to give jobs to blood kin.  Niko also recruited other kids to join the squad.  These young drug dealers made him a wealthy man.  When Niko brought him Farron Donovan, Vasquez was a bit disappointed.  He took one look at the skinny young man and decided that he couldn't use him.  He instructed Niko to take him out and shoot him.  However, Niko pled Farron's case and begged his uncle to give him a test.  Vasquez was a fairly reasonable man, and he decided to follow Niko's recommendations.  After all, his nephew had never failed him before.  

Vasquez set Farron up for the most risky of jobs in the drug trade.  He was instructed to deliver half a dozen kilos of cocaine to a neighboring city where a distributor waited to cut the stuff and then shuttle it to street thugs who would sell it.  If Farron failed this particular test, not only would he be arrested, he would also face a harsh death sentence carried out by Vasquez's men.  Farron was a Donovan man.  He had descended from a long line of brave men, and he had no qualms accepting the test.  Farron helped load the dope into the trunk of Niko's car.  They had hidden it in the old standby of a false bottom.  If the police stopped him, it would be the first place they would look.  It was a simple task, but a deadly one.  Farron took the challenge, and to everyone's amazement, he passed the test.  Vasquez took him on immediately.

From that day on, Farron became a trafficker.  At the time, the local police were just beginning to utilize the method known as profiling to 'select' the people most likely to be drug smugglers.  Somehow, Farron didn't fit that profile.  He was basically a clean-cut kid, kind of preppy looking, and he drove a car that looked nothing like one a trafficker would use.  He delivered tons of cocaine to various distributors in three different states.  They all had ties to the Bolivians.  He made tons of money during his tenure, but he didn't get wild with it.  He didn't spend it like Niko did.  He drove a used vehicle and never spent money on designer clothing.  Of course, it also kept his family from getting suspicious.  Farron had always been a rebel, but never had he blatantly broke the law.  If he were to be arrested, it would break his mother's heart.

The fateful night that would change his relationship with his twin brother forever began sedately enough.  Farron had wanted to stay home that night because he hadn't seen his brother since he took off to school in Massachusetts.  Although a few moments older than Frank, Farron realized that he relied on his brother more and more for emotional support.  Although Farron had done some utterly nasty things to Frank, he was always willing to help him out of any jam.  Frank had yet to develop the icy exterior his future team members and wife would grow to know well.  He was still a warm and giving young man, one who didn't hide his heart.  

Farron, Frank, and their sisters, Alicia and Anya, were sitting in the kitchen [the true heart of the Donovan household] playing a board game.  They felt silly doing it, but it was a way for the siblings to gather and catch up with each other.  Alicia and Anya didn't see their brothers very often, and they would soon leave home themselves.  It was a warm, peaceful evening, one in which Farron would never forget.  Frank had just put a hotel on Boardwalk when the phone rang.  Farron jumped up to answer it.  To his chagrin, it was Niko.  Vasquez wanted him to take a load of guns and drugs across the border into Mexico.  Farron was the best trafficker in the lot, and his presence was not requested, it was demanded.  There were no arguments.  Farron announced that he had to go to work.  He kissed his sisters and hugged his brother before walking out the door.

Once at the rendezvous, Niko helped load the contraband into the trunk of Farron's car, and that was when all hell broke loose.  Vasquez had many enemies.  A group of competing drug smugglers had had followed Farron to the hideout.  Unwittingly, Farron was drawn into a vicious shoot out.  He was completely unarmed.  Through the hailstorm of bullets, Farron somehow managed to get behind the wheel of his car.  He sped away toward the only place he felt safe:  home.  

Frank was roused out of bed by the squealing of tires.  He heard Farron yelling that he needed help.  Of course, Frank did not hesitate to reach out to his brother.  He ran outside to aid Farron.  What Farron didn't realize was that the assassins who had taken out both Niko and Vasquez had followed him home.  As Frank reach out to his distressed twin, he didn't see the long black car slowly progressing up the road toward the house.  The shooter had been informed to take out Donovan.  He knew what Farron looked like, but what he didn't realize was that there were two of the fuckers.  They were identical.  Who was who?  It didn't matter.  Even if he shot the wrong man, it would send a message to Farron Donovan.  

Farron saw the approaching car too late.  He tried to tackle his brother to the ground, but he didn't move fast enough.  An incredible burst of machine gun fire tore into the silent night air.  At least five bullets peppered Frank's body.  Each one was a separate agony all its own.  He fell to the cold, hard ground and was never so close to his own mortality.  As the blood coursed out of each wound, Frank looked around him in shock.  He glanced at his hand stupidly.  It was covered in blood, **his **blood.  It was coming out of his body and soaking the ground beneath him.  He couldn't move, scream, or breathe.  He simply lay flat on his back, staring up at the night sky and hoped that he would see the sun in the morning.  The face of his twin brother hovered over him, shedding tears, and he began to apologize over and over again.  Farron wasn't sure what he could do or where he could go.  His next move was cowardly and vicious, but he wasn't in the right frame of mind.  He ran and left his brother, left him to die.

Frank had somehow survived the attack, but his wounds would take months to heal.  Farron came to him the next day.  When he laid his eyes on his fallen brother, he fell to his knees before his hospital bed and begged for his forgiveness.  He also swore solemnly that he would never dabble with the drug trade again.  At that moment, a shard of brutal ice entered Frank's heart, piercing it, poisoning it forever.  His brother, his own flesh and blood, had abandoned him at the moment when he needed him most.  Frank had taken bullets meant for him, and the way Farron had repaid the sacrifice was to run.  Frank did not forgive his brother for his disloyalty.  From that day forward, Frank decided he would never allow his brother inside his heart ever again.  He would not deny his love for his twin, but he would never clean up any of Farron's messes.  Frank would leave him to his own devices, as much as Farron had left him to his.

Farron left the hospital after visiting hours and went straight to the police.  He told them everything, hoping that his confession would somehow melt the iceberg that had overtaken Frank's heart.  Farron ended up testifying against the shooters and received immunity.  Frank didn't consider his deed noble.  He considered it as Farron's way of covering his own ass.

Frank recovered eventually, but he was forced to drop out of school for nearly a year.  He never told his mother or sisters that Farron had been responsible for his injuries.  It would be a secret he would carry to his grave.  His body healed beautifully.  However, his heart would always ache from the pain of his brother's betrayal.

*  *  *

Loralei held Donovan through the night.  Her husband was devastatingly heartbroken.  In a very rare moment of extreme vulnerability, he began to cry and clung to his wife desperately, seeking the love and comfort he had been denied so long ago. 


	4. Farron's Past Revisited

CHAPTER 4—FARRON'S PAST REVISTED

Jesus Ortiz sat out on the deck of his multimillion-dollar beachfront home.  He was a middle-aged man who lived on the labor of others.  He had dabbled in every type of business imaginable, legal and otherwise.  Mostly, Ortiz was into drugs.  As a child in a poverty stricken country, his personal hero was Pablo Escobar.  He aspired to be just like him.  Today, he was.  However, unlike Escobar, he didn't intend to be taken down any time soon.  He gazed out onto the perfect white sand and choppy blue-green water of the gulf.  He appeared to be a man with very little to worry about.  He was not.  His closest soul _hermano _sat across from him.  Pablo Dominguez had been his second in command for many years.  He was a brave man and carried out any order without question.  He was the only _hombre_ he would trust with his life.  At one time, he had been able to count on his other soul _hermano_, Mateo Luis.  Mateo had turned his back on the family and had seemingly disappeared in the night.  It was Dominguez's job to hunt down Mateo and bring him back for his execution.  He had committed a treasonous act, and Ortiz wouldn't allow him to breathe much longer.

*  *  *

Dominguez and Luis were the top traffickers in Ortiz's family, but Luis had a great weakness.  He refused to kill a man, even if he deserved it.  He had no qualms about running guns, drugs, or other contraband.  However, he refused to kill on command.  It was a trait that Ortiz figured would lead to his eventual death.  Luis had been in many confrontations with competing drug families, but he managed to come out unscathed.  Luis joined the fold after staying out of the drug business for many years.  Ortiz consented to take the young man into his operation after he discovered he had trafficked for his former partner.  If Mateo Luis was good enough for Enrique Vasquez, he was good enough for him.  After Luis joined the fold, the first person Ortiz introduced him to was Ramon Ramirez.  The slightly dirty politician had funded his campaign from monies generated from drug sales.  He had solid Colombian ties and he always looked out for his _hermanos_.  He had managed to get pardons for many of Ortiz's men.  Of course, Ortiz paid Ramirez well, until he was betrayed.  Through his trusted _hermano_, he learned that Ramirez was taking kickbacks from one of Ortiz's old enemies.  That just would not do.  He gave immediate orders to Luis and Dominguez.  They were to take out the ungrateful son-of-a-bitch.  Dominguez jumped at the chance to please him, but Luis hesitated.

"I will _not _take his life," Luis had said.  "I'll run your drugs and your guns, but I won't take another life."

"You will or you die with him, Mateo," Ortiz had replied.  "You go with _la familia_ or you die.  Ramon betrayed us all, and you must avenge the family.  He helped kill Enrique.  Wasn't he like your _hermano_?  Go or die.  It's your choice."

When faced with such resistance, Luis agreed reluctantly and accompanied Dominguez on his mission.  They went out at night, wearing their long hair tied back.  Each man was cloaked in black clothing.  Dominguez gave Luis a semi-automatic handgun.  Of course, Luis had held a gun before, but he felt uncomfortable with its weight.  He had never killed another human being.  He had seen his fair share of death and had witnessed many bloody shootouts, but he was never a bringer of death.  He had crossed the line when he began to dabble with the drug trade, but if he helped murder Ramirez, he would take the ultimate plunge into a deadly, soulless world.  He was a fuckup, but he was no killer.  He was quite tempted to shoot Dominguez in the leg just to stop this crazy hit.

Together, Luis and Dominguez left their black van and crept up to the house and the unsuspecting Ramirez family.  To Luis' horror, the entire family was home.  Ramirez had a wife and two very small children.  Ortiz wouldn't ask either man to kill the wife or the children, but Luis was certain Dominguez intended to take them all out.  He didn't care who or what he killed.  He was cold-hearted and brutal.  Luis literally begged Dominguez not to harm Ramirez's wife and children.  Dominguez promised to spare their lives, but Luis didn't trust his _hermano_ as far he could throw him.  The two men crept upstairs to the bedroom and Dominguez motioned for Luis to move in and hold back Ramirez's wife.  

As they burst into the bedroom of the sleeping couple, Luis literally felt his legs go weak.  He couldn't believe he was in a room about to take the life of another human being.  _El cobarde_, he thought.  (Coward)  Yes, he was a yellow-hearted coward.  He had been one his entire life.  Ramirez and his wife began to scream in horror.  Luis was supposed to move his feet and grab the woman, but he couldn't.  

"_Obténgala_," Dominguez screamed.  ("Get her!")

Luis couldn't move.  He refused to move.  He wanted no part in killing this man or his wife.  Growling his contempt, Dominguez aimed his weapon at Ramirez's wife, but Luis countered his move by shooting at his _hermano_.  The bullet missed, of course.  Luis had terrible aim.  Horrified that his _hermano_ would shoot at him, Dominguez put three bullets in Ramirez as the man tried to flee the room, and he then aimed his weapon at Luis.  By this time, Luis was shielding the body of the screaming woman with his.  He would not kill her; he would have to shoot him first.

"_Muévalo bastardo_," Dominguez yelled.  ("Move, you bastard!")

"_Jódalo_," Luis screamed back.  ("Fuck you!")  "_Yo no permitiré que usted la matará_."  ("I will not let you kill her.")

"_Usted morirá para esto_," Dominguez promised.  ("You will die for this.")

Without another word, without another bullet spent, Dominguez left the mansion.  Ortiz would be very disappointed in Luis when he heard the news.  He was certain that his next job would be to bring Luis down.  Luis lingered with Ramirez's wife only a few moments longer.  He could not stay in this house, could not look upon the dead body of Ramirez.  As he fled from the bedroom, he was confronted with the two sleepy faces of Ramirez's daughters.  Rosalita and Emilita Ramirez would haunt his dreams for weeks to come.  Once they laid eyes on their dead father, they screamed and screamed.  

Luis returned to the compound the next day.  By then, Ortiz had heard of the yellow way his _hermano_ had conducted himself.  The orders were swift and harsh.  Luis was to die.  Of course, Luis was aware of this, but he went to his friend to face him, to try and reason with him.  Then and there, he told _el jefe_ that he wanted out.  He didn't want to run drugs and guns any longer.  For once, he wanted to straighten out his life and find a better way to live.  At the pace he was going, he would be dead by his next birthday.  Surely, Ortiz would understand and release him without further repercussions.  He had even promised he would not mention the murder of Ramon Ramirez to the authorities.  Ortiz was a prime bullshitter, and he agreed to Luis' well thought arguments.  However, he had already sent orders for Luis to be exterminated that very night.  Jesus Ortiz hated backstabbing fuckers more than he hated liars.

Mateo Luis went home that evening a little at peace.  The one thing that disturbed it was the news of Ramirez's murder.  The wife of Ramon Ramirez appeared on camera crying hysterically.  She made an appeal to the man who helped save hers and her children's lives.  She couldn't remember what he looked liked other than a basic description:  tall, dark hair, and Spanish.  She knew little else.  Luis' heart began to pound in his chest.  She was talking about him.  He barely had time to feel shocked.  His front door caved in with tremendous force.  Luis dived down onto the floor and covered his head for protection.  Standing before him was his _hermano_, Pablo Dominguez.  Luis did the only thing he could.  He crashed through the window near the fire escape.  He fell two stories down into a dumpster.  He ran for his life and escaped to another state where he was another person.

*  *  *

"You must find Mateo, Pablo," Ortiz said.  The _federales_ are involved now.  If they find him, he will spill his yellow guts.  I refuse to go down.  Find him, _mi hermano_.  Put him too sleep forever."

*  *  *

Farron Donovan sat up in bed suddenly, a scream just behind his lips.  _Goddamn nightmares_, he thought.  He had been dreaming about his past.  Not many people knew it, but Farron had two separate and distinct identities.  In the lower United States, in Central and South America, he was known to all as Mateo Luis.  He had affected the Spanish name after immersing himself back into the drug trade.  He could no longer use 'Donovan,' not with his brother's special status.  The name carried a lot of weight.  Frank had literally come into his own and nearly ruled the roost in his field.  If he had shown up on Jesus Ortiz's doorstep as 'Farron Donovan,' his brother would immediately be put in danger.  He had caused Frank enough grief and didn't want to place him in mortal danger again.  He had never forgiven himself for leaving Frank to bleed to death as he ran like the coward he was.  Of course, his other identity, that of Farron Donovan, surfaced whenever he went home to see his family.  He had even affected a different look and accent just so he could leave the crazy part of his life behind.  He used the money he made to set up two different houses and lifestyles.  In Florida, he lived as any other successful man did.  He had his own beachfront estate and littered his garage with fancy cars.  At home, with his true family, he lived modestly, never hinting that he was anything other than an average man.  Leading two separate lives had begun to wear thin.  There was also the matter of his night terrors.  

Images of Rosa and Emily Ramirez haunted him almost every night.  He would never forget the horrified expressions on their faces as they watched their father bleed to death.  Nothing else bothered him as much [with the exception of Frank nearly dying before his eyes] as those little girls.  If Dominguez had had his way, the entire family would have been murdered and buried together.  He had lived with a lot of horror, a lot of grief, and guilt.  However, he couldn't have lived with the idea of those little girls under the ground, their innocent lights put out before they even had a chance to experience life.  He wanted out, wanted to leave behind the life once and for all.  He couldn't take the murders, the paybacks, or the constant need to look over his shoulder.  Farron had left the life before, right after Frank went back to school.  His need for power and money seemed insignificant.  However, the call never went away.  He had been tempted before, but had been able to fight it, until he met Pablo Dominguez who introduced him to his _jefe_.  After that, Farron fell in love again.    

Sighing heavily, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat up.  He was so very tired, so exhausted.  He stood up and stretched his long, lean frame.  As usual, he was as naked as the day he was born.  Last night, he had not slept alone.  The woman was still in bed and hadn't moved one inch.  He was surprised his sudden and abrupt rising hadn't awakened her.  Of course, she was also sleeping off a tremendous amount of alcohol that they had consumed the night before.  He couldn't quite remember the woman's name right now, but she was definitely lovely.  Her beauty could match that of a super-model, but she wasn't quite the same type of woman that Frank had married.  He wasn't necessarily attracted to his sister in-law, but he found himself wanting the kind of life Frank had.  He wanted to start over, but in order to do that, he needed Frank's help.  If anyone could save his life, it would be Frank.  This would be the very last time he would come to Frank for assistance.  He wanted to finally leave his brother be.  Frank had a wife now, and would soon have a child.  There was little room in his life to keep supporting his ungrateful twin.  He hoped his visit with Loralei would help.  He hoped she would convince Frank to see him, to speak to him, even if it was just for a few moments.  However, Frank was totally and completely stubborn, and Farron realized that he deserved every ounce of hatred that his brother held for him.   

Farron went to the window and hoped that the woman in his bed wouldn't get up any time soon.  He enjoyed having this quiet time to himself, even if it was spent brooding on his mistakes.  Pablo Dominguez would find him soon enough.  Farron was known in various circles all over the world.  It was only a matter of time before Ortiz and Dominguez realized that Mateo Luis was Farron Donovan.  He simply hoped that Frank would bring him down before the grand confrontation.  Farron wasn't afraid to die, but he wanted to clean up his life.  He wanted a second chance.  He would see Loralei again, possibly today, and find out if Frank had consented to see him.  One way or another, he would get back into Frank's good graces.  _Perdóneme por favor, mi hermano.  Yo lo amo_.(Please forgive me, my brother.  I love you.)

*  *  *

For the first time in weeks, Loralei was out of bed before her husband.  As much as Farron before her, Loralei stood at the bedroom window gazing out at nothing in particular.  She had started out watching the sunrise, but didn't bother moving after it finished its lovely job.  Donovan had literally cried himself to sleep.  It was the first time she had ever seen him like this.  He had held onto his hurt for so many years, and when he finally let it out, it had overtaken him, rocking his foundation.  She knew the hurt wouldn't go away, but she hoped that his letting it out would allow him to heal.  After hearing the overwhelming story, she wasn't sure how she felt about Farron.  He had shown a grand character flaw when he gave out Donovan's address, but leaving his bleeding brother to die was harsh and cruel.  She wasn't sure if _she_ could be charitable enough to forgive a betrayal such as Farron's.  Of course, it had happened years before Loralei even knew Frank Donovan existed, but still, he was the man she loved more than life itself, and the thought of his nearly dying almost killed _her_.  She didn't even want to imagine what her life would have been like if she had never met him.  _Selfish, Selfish, Loralei_, she thought.

Distracted by her thoughts, she didn't see Donovan slipping soundlessly out of bed.  She wouldn't have known he had gotten up at all if he hadn't approached her and wrapped his arms around her waist.  She gasped [_ohmygod_] in surprise and took in a sharp breath.  Her heart thumped in her chest as his lips caressed the side of her throat.  His hands rested protectively over her middle.  She closed her eyes and leaned back into him.  Eventually, his hands moved up slowly from her middle to her breasts where he cupped them gently into his hands.  A soft sigh escaped her as chill bumps erupted all over her body.  His hands released her breasts and moved over to her arms.  One arm slid up hers and moved all her hair over her shoulder.  His lips then moved up to her ear as his tongue teased her lobe.  _Uh.  Uh.  He's almost on the spot_, she thought insanely.  His tongue hit that sweet little spot behind her ear and she actually felt her legs weakening beneath her.  _Oh, Loralei, you're so easy_, she thought.  After a brief, almost deliciously painful moment, his lips moved away from her ear.  She wasn't sure if she was happy or upset about that.  He drew away from her for a brief moment and turned her to face him.  He lowered his head just the slightest bit and laid a long, breathless kiss on her lips.  He possessed her, he possessed _all_ of her.  She molded her body against his, and felt somewhat disappointed that she couldn't get any closer to him.

He broke the kiss only to move his mouth down to her throat.  She threw her head back a little as his demanding lips and tongue moved over the slight arch of her throat.  His teeth nipped her flesh gently.  "Loralei," he said against her flesh.  

Her eyes were still closed, and she had her arms wrapped tightly about his body.  The way he said her name made her quiver.  It felt like a little vibration that sent a tingling sensation all the way through her body and down to her toes.  "Yes baby," she whispered.  She could barely speak.

He drew away from her yet again and consumed her with his dark eyes.  "I have never loved anyone like I love you.  Right now, right at this moment, I have never loved you more.  I don't ever want you to doubt that.  What you did for me last night has never been done."  He closed his eyes for a moment.  When he opened them again, she could have sworn she saw unshed tears in them.  He didn't want to open the floodgates again.  "If I were to die today," he began, but then paused as he fought the lump trying to rise into this throat, seemingly wanting to strangle the life out of his words, "I'd sell my soul to come back just to love you one more day."

Donovan didn't give her time to speak one word.  His lips captured hers again and he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed.

*  *  *

"You never told me what your news was," she said suddenly.

He looked down at her snuggled so securely against his body, and for a moment, he wanted to forget he had to leave.  _Ah the horrors of reality_, he thought.  "We received a new case.  It's a priority job.  We have to go Florida tomorrow."

"Oh," she said.

He heard the sadness in that one simple word.  She would never ask him to stay, because she knew he must go.  However, she didn't have to like it.  Neither did he for that matter.  "It will be a UC job," he said, "and I'm not even sure when we'll return."

She shifted her position to lean over him.  She didn't like the idea of him being gone so long.  "Take me with you.  So you have to go undercover.  Who says you can't have a pregnant wife?"

He sighed.  Cody's words came back to haunt him:  _Here comes World War 3_.  "_I do_.  I'm not about to put you in harm's way.  You're five months pregnant, Loralei, and if anything happened to you or the baby, I'd never forgive myself."

She knew he was thinking about the miscarriage.  "It won't be like last time.  This is totally different.  I don't want to stay here alone, with only a phone call here and there.  It's not enough, not right now.  Take me with you."

"What about school?  You're right in the middle of a semester.  What if this takes longer than a few days?"

"I'll deal with that when the time comes.  In the meantime, I can take my books along.  What we're doing in class isn't that important.  No examinations.  No strict attendance requirements.  Nothing but a lot of writing, and I can always borrow a laptop.  It all flows to the dissertation.  I can even call my department and let them know.  They know I'm pregnant and they expect me to take a break anyway."  

He shook his head a little.  She had it all figured out.  God help him, but he was actually _considering_ it.  What in the world was wrong with him?  It was simple, really.  He didn't want to be without her.  Although he could mask it well, he was a natural worrier.  However, if she stayed here, he wouldn't get much work done.  He would have his mind on her constantly.  At least if she went along, he would know she was okay.  He didn't trust Farron.  He didn't want her in the same city as his brother.  "You'll take a separate flight out and have a different room in the hotel.  Wherever you are, I'll find you.  None of this is negotiable."  

He looked up at her expectantly, with his infernal lifted eyebrow, ready to argue if she disagreed with even one slight point.  "Agreed," she said simply.

Donovan sighed heavily.  "Thank God.  I'm too damn tired to argue."

She kissed his lips gently.  "You're so pussy whipped," she said with a little smile.

He pushed her down to the bed.  "You know I'll make you pay for that little comment, don't you?"

"I'm so scared," she said sarcastically.  Her eyes gleamed wickedly.

"You should be.  I know all the buttons to push."

And push them, he did.       


	5. Time To Fly

CHAPTER 5—TIME TO FLY

It was a bit past ten at night, and Donovan was still at work.  He had sent everyone else home, but he lingered, as he sometimes did on occasion.  He stood staring blankly out of the window, a steaming mug of coffee in his hand.  It wouldn't be long before he and the team was slated to fly out to Florida, and Loralei was scheduled to join him in a couple of days.  Donovan hadn't told the others that Loralei would be following.  He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but he didn't want anyone to know.  Somehow, it seemed safer.  He still didn't know how he felt about her going along.  Of course, he had agreed to it, but he didn't like it.  However, it was too late to stop her now.  He had relented, and if he backed out, she would probably try to strangle him.  _Good move, Donovan_, he thought.  He recalled vowing to never put her in harm's way again, and he was doing exactly what he said he wouldn't.  He took a long, thoughtful sip from the mug.  His motivation for allowing Loralei to come along was to keep her from Farron's grasp.  As he had thought the day before, he didn't doubt that his brother would come back again and again.  _What are you worried about?  What are you **really** worried about_?  Donovan shook his head and exhaled a deep breath.  What he had with Loralei could never, _would_ never compare with any relationship he had ever had in his life.  Of course, he hadn't been completely celibate before he met her, and some of his relationships had become quite serious.  Most of them never progressed further than a brief sexual fling.  

When Donovan and Farron were younger, Farron often moved in on his relationships.  At times, his brother hadn't really liked the girl.  It was a challenge to him taking away something that his younger twin loved.  It was a competitive/sibling rivalry type thing, but it still hurt.  He wasn't necessarily afraid that Farron intended to disrupt his marriage.  Loralei loved him enough to marry him, to have his child, for God's sake, and she would never fall for Farron's smarmy advances.  She was too smart for that.  Yet, it wasn't Loralei whom he doubted.  It was Farron.  He was almost certain that if left to his own devices, Farron would try something.  Plain and simple, it was his way, and he couldn't help it.  Donovan's blood boiled at the thought of Farron even glancing at his wife, much less touching her.  That very elementary, but yet so horrifying thought was what fueled his tantrum when he discovered that Farron had gone to Loralei.  He had held that thought back from her [_one more promise broken_], because she would have told him exactly what he knew already.  She didn't understand the psychology of her brother.  She hadn't grown up with him.  She just didn't know.  It was a harsh thought, but one so true.  

He tore his eyes away from the window and turned toward his desk.  A small lamp that was more decoration than a light source illuminated it.  If he continued to read by it, he was certain to go blind some day.  He liked the weak light, though, it seemed to comfort him.  There was a sheaf of papers resting in the middle of the desk.  It was information about the new case that Cody had dug up.  He approached his desk and sat down.  The top sheet was a list of names of people that Pablo Dominguez was known to run with.  Carlos Vega.  Juan Rodriguez.  Tomas Cortez.  Mateo Luis.  The names meant nothing to him.  He had never seen nor heard of these men before.  Cody had run background checks on each man, and the information had been scant.  The 'witness' Mrs. Ramirez saw fit the description of hundreds of men:  long dark hair that was tied back, dark eyes, dark complexion, and fluent in both Spanish and English.  She had no problem picking out Pablo Dominguez, but she had yet to finger the other shooter.  According to the police report somewhere in this pile, she had not found one single person who fit the description in the dozens of mug shots she had thumbed through.  It was frustrating.  It was as if this witness had fallen off the face of the earth.  He stacked the papers neatly and slid them into a manila folder.  He would read through this material thoroughly once they were on the plane, but he didn't think he'd find anything.

Suddenly, the phone rang, splitting through the thick silence of the room.  He actually didn't feel like picking up the receiver, so he hit the speaker button.  "Donovan."

"When will you be home," Loralei's voice asked.  "I won't see you for a few days, and I'd sort of like to say goodbye before you fly out."

He smiled a little.  "I'm almost on my way.  I had to tie up a few loose ends before I leave."

"You don't have me on speaker, do you," she asked suspiciously.

"Yes, my love, I do.  But no one else is here," he said.

"Ooooooooh, interesting," she said.  "Wanna have phone sex?"

He laughed.  "Tempting, but I'd much rather have the real thing."

"Then get your sexy ass home."

"How about thirty minutes?"

She sighed dramatically.  "I might be in bed asleep by then, but I suppose you can wake me up.  Love you, baby.  See ya."  She hung up before he could speak.

He shook his head, smiling widely and goofily.  "Tease," he said as he hit the speaker button to hang up the phone.

Donovan told Loralei thirty minutes, but he was together and outside in less than fifteen.  He was anxious to see her.  As he walked to his car, he couldn't help but shake his head and smile a little.  Their separation would only span forty-eight hours, but it seemed as if he wouldn't see her for a month.  Suddenly, he felt an urgency to get home.  He even felt his heart skip a beat in anticipation.  _This is really crazy_, he thought.  He unlocked the car door and threw the manila folder inside.  Just as he was about to climb in, he noticed a figure standing a few feet away.  He recognized the stance, knew instantly who it was.  For a moment, he was tempted to simply climb into the car and forget about it.  He had a wife waiting for him at home.  In the end, he sighed and decided to confront the lone figure.

"What are you doing here," Donovan demanded.

Farron slowly approached him, but stood back a safe distance.  "I thought of going to your wife again, but I thought better of it."

"Be fucking glad you did, Farron.  Don't approach my wife again.  She isn't a part of our fight, and I want to keep her out of it.  I don't want to help you; I don't care what you've done.  I don't care what your trouble is.  All I care about is getting home.  Go back to whatever hole you crawled from, Farron.  Go back and stay away.  If you ever approach my wife again, I'll see to it that you suffer the same fate as I did.  Remember that?  I still have the scars.  What do you have?"

Farron nodded, finally understanding.  His twin wasn't exactly angry about his giving Kelly Bartlet his address.  He was angry about the shooting.  "I was a kid, Frank.  We were both kids.  I'd give my soul to take it back, but I can't.  What more do you ask?  What more do you need?  If you want me dead, shoot me.  We both know you have a gun.  Can we not just talk?"

Donovan shook his head and laughed bitterly.  "You wouldn't be satisfied with just talking, Farron.  Don't you think I know that?  Once, we were connected, but then something changed, and for whatever reason exists, our connection ended.  I decided a long time ago that I wouldn't clean up after you anymore.  How do you think our mother would feel if she knew what you were?  How do you think the entire family would feel if they knew what you did?  They're oblivious because _I _wanted it that way.  As far as I'm concerned, I don't have a brother.  I know you're in trouble, I can _feel_ it.  I'm not fixing it this time or ever again.  Stay away from me and my wife."

Without another word to Farron, Donovan climbed into his car, revved the engine to life, and sped away.  As he sped toward home, Donovan was angered and saddened at the same time.  It killed him to deny his brother.  Despite the hell, despite the grief, a tiny part of his heart loved his brother, and always would.  However, there was no way he would open himself enough to let Farron hurt him again.  Regardless of what Farron said, it would happen eventually.  His past relationship with Farron began to flash in his mind as he sped down the road.  The shooting incident hadn't been what really put the wedge between them, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.  It wasn't their mother or father or sisters.  Some little something had happened and Farron had simply pulled away from him.  _How could we be so much alike, and yet be so different_, he wondered.  Perhaps his family expected too much of Farron, especially since at the beginning of his life, everything came to him so very easily.  Still, there was no excuse for what Farron had done to him.  No excuse to at all.  He groaned as his head begun to ache sickly.  If he didn't drive these horrendous thoughts out of his head, he wouldn't be able to do anything but pass out.  Tonight, he didn't want that.  He wanted to spend the night with his wife, making love to her.  Shaking thoughts of Farron out of his mind, he pressed his foot to the accelerator.  The faster he got home, the better it would be.

By the time Donovan arrived home, he felt a little better.  He wanted to shake off the pain and disappointment before Loralei saw it.  He didn't usually try to mask his true feelings, but tonight he did.  He was about to be separated from her [_for TWO days_], and he didn't want to spend his remaining time brooding over his brother.  Taking a deep breath, he unlocked the door and entered the apartment.  True to her word, Loralei was in bed, but she was far from asleep.  During the time he had been at the office, she had stripped the bed of their standard sheets and replaced them with royal blue satin.  She sat up, clutching the sheet against her breasts.  Her dark auburn hair hung loose and wild.  Her peachy skin contrasted beautifully against the blue of the sheets.  She looked lovely, absolutely lovely, and thoughts of Farron drifted right out of his mind.  He couldn't believe the length she had gone to do this for them.  Had she been planning this all day?  He tried to remember the last time she had dug out the satin sheets.  Was it their wedding night?  Yes.  He remembered now.  It was the wedding night, and they had wanted to experiment a little.  Some wise guy [probably Cody] had bought the sheets as a wedding gift.  They certainly looked and felt nice, but they had their unpractical side.  They had spent half the night giggling like idiots because Loralei kept sliding out of bed.  She put on some type of flimsy silk nightgown, and it hadn't meshed well with the satin.  She couldn't stay in one place until he stripped her out of the gown.  As it turned out, the sheets felt quite wonderful against naked skin.

"What did you do," he asked with a smile.

"I thought I'd cook up something special," she said with a lazy smile.  "Take off your clothes and get in this bed with me.  You wouldn't phone sex me, so I decided to arrange the real thing for you, just like you asked.  You'd better hurry, you have a plane to catch."

He smiled as he unbuttoned his shirt.  "Loralei, you never fail to surprise me."

*  *  *

Loralei's flight wasn't due to leave until early tomorrow morning, but she was busily packing anyway.  She wasn't sure how much stuff she needed to take.  She decided to pack only what she needed for the next week.  She hoped Donovan wouldn't have to stay any longer than that, but she wasn't counting on it.  The longest they'd ever been separated was about a week.  During that time, the first couple of days were okay, but after that, she had nearly gone nuts.  He called regularly enough, but it wasn't as satisfying as actually touching him.  She cursed when she realized that she'd have to take a second bag just to carry her books and the laptop she borrowed.  She tried to think if there was anything she was forgetting.  Ah.  The phone.  She grabbed it off the charger and slipped it into her carry-on.  As soon as she landed, Donovan wanted a phone call.  As she zipped up the carry-on, she wondered what had persuaded him to take her along.  Was he worried about Farron?  He hadn't said as much, but some little push told her it was.  This situation with his brother consumed her as much as it did him.  She wanted the brothers to reconcile, but she didn't want that at the same time.  _Stay out of it, Loralei_.  She sighed and went about the chore of ensuring that she had packed everything she needed.

The doorbell rang suddenly, startling her.  Irritated, she left her packing behind and strode toward the door.  She peered into the peephole and stepped back.  Farron.  She thought he had forgotten all about her.  Apparently, he hadn't.  She wasn't sure if she wanted to open the door or not.  Maybe if she didn't open the door, he would eventually leave.  She wasn't counting on that either.  She didn't know Farron, but she was pretty sure he would have at least some of her husband's persistence.  After a few moments, her theory was proven true.  He rang the doorbell again and waited patiently.  Giving in, she unlocked the door and opened it.

"Is Frank here," he asked.

Somehow, she knew he knew Donovan wasn't home.  "No.  If he were, you wouldn't be standing here right now," she said.

"I'm sorry.  We both know that was bullshit.  I came to speak to you."

Loralei had yet to invite him in.  She didn't want to, not really.  Her mind kept playing back to the night her husband had cried himself to sleep.  This man so like her husband, yet so different, had killed something inside Donovan.  Again, she caught herself questioning her feelings for her brother in-law.  Should she hate him or pity him?  "I don't think that's such a great idea, Farron.  Frank won't talk to you, and there's nothing I can do or say to change his mind."

He studied her curiously.  Something about her demeanor had changed since the last time he had visited her.  He knew the look.  It was almost identical to Frank's.  There was mistrust and apprehension mixed with dull hatred.  His brother had certainly found his match in this woman.  She mirrored his brother's emotions better than he ever could.  "I can see that you know," he said.  "I can also see that you don't care for me right now."

She sighed.  "I don't know you, Farron.  How could I have formulated an opinion?  Yes, Frank told me, but it's not my job to judge you."  _Liar_.  She felt like a hypocrite.  "Would you mind leaving?  I have a few things to do, and your presence is interrupting me."

Farron caught just a glimpse of a carry-on bag.  She was leaving, but where?  Was she going to Frank?  He had been watching Frank, just outside the fringe of detection.  Frank was sharp, but Farron had learned the fine art of ducking.  It was a matter of survival in his old trade.  "I'm sorry, Loralei, but I'm here to once again make a plea to my brother and apologize for what I've done in the past and what I've done now.  I have lived every day with this horror, and it's not easy."

"How dare you _whine_," she spat, suddenly furious.  "You're so selfish that you can only see your pain.  Have you given _one_ thought as to what you've done to your brother?  Have you ever wondered if his iciness and roughened exterior may have been caused by _you_?  If you were my brother, I wouldn't have forgiven you.  I wanted to help you, and I wish I could.  Right now, I don't think it's such a great idea.  Since you've been here, he's not the same.  Maybe you should go and give him time.  He's upset, Farron, and rightfully so."

Oddly, he felt like confessing to her.  He didn't know why, but her words hurt more than any denial Frank had ever made.  She didn't understand.  This wasn't some silly jam he was in.  "I _must _see my brother, I _must_ speak to him.  I'm not playing a game, not anymore."

"Farron, please.  Frank doesn't want to deal with you.  Back off and let it be.  Maybe in a few months, he'll be okay enough to see you.  Right now, he isn't.  You need to go."

_I may not have a few months_, he thought.  He nodded.  "Okay."  Without further word, he left.  

*  *  *

When Loralei left for the airport, she didn't exactly leave alone.  Farron's ability to blend helped him follow closely behind his sister in-law.  Once at the terminal, he continued to trail behind her until she found the right gate.  His heart began to pound hard in his chest when he saw the destination.  Florida.  His hunch had been correct.  His brother and his team were working the Ramirez case.  A few weeks ago, he thought he would never set foot in Florida again.  He would follow them.  If Dominguez or Ortiz saw Frank, he would die.

*  *  *

Donovan's cell phone rang.  He smiled a little.  This cell phone had a number that only a few people knew, and one of them was Loralei.  He reached over and grabbed it.  "It's almost ten.  What took you so long?"

"I can't make the plane fly any faster than it does," she said comically.  "I'm at the airport, and I'm headed toward the hotel."

*  *  *

A young woman who appeared to be pregnant came into the hotel carrying two suitcases and a carry-on.  She appeared to be very tired and very ready to check in.  It was around eleven at night, and there were few people milling about.  She noticed a tall man with dark hair sitting casually in the reception area.  He appeared to be waiting for someone.  His nose was buried in the paper, and he barely gave the woman a sideways glance.  She completely ignored this fellow and continued to make her way toward the check-in desk.

"You look exhausted," the clerk behind the counter said.

"Oh yes.  Long flight.  I'm so ready to get into bed and sleep twelve hours.  Can I check in?  Please tell me I can."

The clerk smiled.  "Oh yes, ma'am.  As long as you have a reservation."

She laughed.  "I never go anywhere without making reservations.  You'll find it under Dina K.  I believe I paid for a week in advance."  She stood and watched as the clerk began tapping at the keys on her computer.

"Oh yes.  Dina K.  Single king size?"

She smiled.  "Perfect."

With her card key in hand, Dina K. strolled casually over to the elevator.  Just before the doors clicked shut, the tall man from the reception area trotted toward the elevator.  

"Hold the elevator, please," he said.

"Oh, of course," she said as he pushed the 'door open' button. 

He slipped into the elevator beside her.  As soon as the doors closed, he took her arm and pushed her body against the elevator wall.  His lips took hers hungrily as his hands roamed her body restlessly.  Oh the sweet agony.  He broke the kiss just long enough to slam his hand onto the emergency stop button.  The alarms were going off like crazy, but it was only a minor distraction.  He gazed down into her eyes and couldn't believe it had only been two days.  Barely giving himself time to breathe, his mouth claimed hers again, and he slipped his tongue between her wet, inviting lips.  As his hands began their restless journey again, thoughts of ripping her out of her clothing came immediately to mind, but he didn't want to handle her too roughly.  After all, she _was _pregnant.

She broke the kiss and drew back just an inch or two.  She could feel his warm breath against her lips and could smell the hint of his cologne.  How she had missed him.  Two days.  Two damn days.  The irritating alarm kept ringing and ringing, but they hardly noticed.  She placed gentle, soft kisses on his luscious mouth, running her tongue along his bottom lip.  He couldn't stand it.  He wanted her, _needed_ her.  In a fevered hurry, she began working on opening his pants.  She had to get her hands on him, had to get him inside her, and they had to get to it quickly.  It wouldn't take long for a repairman to be summoned.

His breath came in ragged and hard as she finally touched him.  He didn't take his eyes off hers once.  Not feeling the least bit ladylike, she hiked up her skirt.  He ran his tongue over his lips and groaned a little when he realized that she had come prepared.  She wore nothing underneath the skirt.  _Dear God, thank you_, he thought.  He kissed her again and felt her legs come up around his waist.  She broke the kiss and gasped aloud as he entered her slowly, inch by wonderful inch.  She wanted all of him, and she wanted it _now_.  However, once he was enveloped in her warmth, there was nothing slow about his lovemaking.  He lost himself for a few minutes and drove into her at a frenzied, but delicious pace.  She plunged her hands into his hair, and when she met her release, she pulled it and pulled hard.  She cried out and he stifled it with his mouth.  All they needed was an audience.  His mouth moved from hers at the moment of his own release, and he gritted his teeth against the sheer exhausting intensity of it.  Two days.  Just two damn days.  What would he have done if it had been longer?

"I think I got carried away," he said, breathing heavily against her neck.  "Not too rough?"

"Uh uh, baby," she sighed.  "Never."

"Who the hell is Dina K.," he asked.

She laughed a little as she wrapped her arms around his shuddering body.  "You ask the silliest questions at the most awkward moments.  It's Kadin switched around, you goofball."

He chuckled.  "Sorry.  My brain isn't working yet."

"Are you okay?  You didn't sprain something did you?"

He laughed shakily.  "I don't think so.  I just hope they don't get the elevator going until I can move again.  I missed you, Loralei."

She smiled.  "I think I sort of got that idea."

Two days…just two damn days.


	6. World War III

CHAPTER 6—WORLD WAR III

The elevator began moving before Loralei and Donovan had gotten themselves together.  It was making its way slowly, but steadily, up to the lobby.  Thoughts of being seen by dozens of people sprang immediately to mind.  That wouldn't do.  That wouldn't do at all.  As if they were teenagers caught in the backseat of Daddy's car, they hurriedly began to readjust clothing, smooth out mussed hair, and repair smeared makeup.  Donovan gave her an almost crazed look, and she began to giggle helplessly.  The longer she looked at him, the louder she laughed.  He held his finger to his lips in a 'shh' gesture, but she couldn't stop for the life of her.  He cut her giggles off with a kiss, and damn if he didn't back her up against the wall again.  Reluctantly, she pushed him away.  Completely together and calmer now, Donovan backed away and leaned against the other side of the elevator.  Once it stopped and the doors slid open, a few faces, including the pissed off manager, the repairman, and the clerk who had been behind the check-in desk, met them.  The clerk recognized both of them, and her eyes went suspiciously from Donovan before settling on Loralei, and then back again.  The couple was disheveled and sweaty.  She had been working in the hotel long enough to know when two people had had a quickie in the elevator.  Yet, the two were acting as if they were rank strangers.

"What is the meaning of this," the manager asked petulantly.

Innocently, Donovan shrugged.  Loralei knew better than to say one word.  If she did, she would laugh herself right into county lockup.  "It was the oddest thing, really," Donovan began with a deadpan look on his face.  "It just stopped.  Ms. K. here passed out, and I had to revive her."

The manager glanced at Loralei suspiciously.  Her face wanted to crack.  "Yes," she said unbelievably calm.  "Claustrophobic.  I don't know what I would have done without him.  Thank you, Mister?"

He glanced at his wife.  Such a stunning job she had done.  He was very proud of her.  "Donovan."

"Thank you, Mr. Donovan."  He needed to leave immediately.  If he didn't, she would lose her composure.  

Without a word, Donovan slipped out of the elevator.  A female climbed into the elevator with Loralei.  "What a sweet man," she said.

"Hmm."  Under her breath, she said, "Good, too."

"Pardon," the woman said.

"Yes," she said quickly, "He was very sweet."

*  *  *

Donovan and the team had set up shop in a conference room in the hotel.  He had had to literally bully the manager into letting them have it.  Cody and Monica had to set up their gear somewhere.  Without it, they would have zero information.  Jake would go in to infiltrate Pablo Dominguez's gang.  Through utter wizardry [there was no other explanation], Cody had dug up every haunt that Dominguez was known to visit.  With a little help from central, Monica had created this wonderfully elaborate profile of 'Miguel Santos,' the man Jake was to become.  Miguel had a rap sheet as long as he was tall.  He also had the reputation of being the best trafficker in the business.  If he went to Dominguez, perhaps he could immerse himself into the fold, and then find out who his _jefe_ was.  Donovan also hoped that it would lead to the identity of the witness.

*  *  *

Farron jerked himself awake.  He hastily looked around at the other passengers beside him.  Apparently, he hadn't screamed, because no one was staring at him.  _Thank God_, he thought.  He sighed deeply and leaned back in the comfy first class seat he occupied.He had been dreaming again.  Actually, _dreaming_ was a bit sedate.  It was more like a nightmare.  However, this time, he wasn't dreaming about Ramirez or his children.  He had been dreaming about Frank.  He thought back to Loralei's harsh words a few days ago.  He had been selfish, it was so true.  He hadn't really thought about what he had done to Frank.  He normally brought all the pain and grief back his way, because his brother had so much.  He had a good life, a wonderful wife, and a child on the way.  He lived on the right side of the law, and he didn't have to duck and hide from _la muchedumbre_ (the mob).  Yes, he whined, and yes, he felt sorry for himself.  Who else would?  He had basically isolated himself from his family and friends.  He was two different people, and he was scared.  The only time he had ever been more frightened was when he saw Frank's broken and bloody body falling to the ground.  

A flight attendant who had been eyeing him came by and asked if he wanted a drink.  For the time being, he wasn't interested in her or her voluptuous body.  Perhaps later, when he felt better.  He wanted bourbon with no ice, no water, nothing.  He wanted it straight and stiff.  He needed it.  He didn't even bother with the small plastic cup the attendant had set out before him.  Shakily, he unscrewed the cap from the tiny bottle and tossed it back.  Like Frank, he had always loved his bourbon.  He stared blankly out of the tiny window.  He couldn't believe he was going back to Florida.  Farron began to wonder how often Frank worked undercover himself.  He couldn't imagine what Ortiz or Dominguez would do to Frank once they saw him.  Farron had never told his _hermanos_ anything about his family.  In the drug trade, a man would have to be either insane or stupid to discuss his family.  The first thing the enemies went for was a person's family.  However, if they laid eyes on Frank, his identical twin, they would think that Farron had returned with a different look and demeanor.  He stopped the flight attendant again and requested another bourbon.  Farron knocked it back just as quickly.  What kind of torture would they put Frank through if they captured him?  He had pissed off his friends when he ran, and they wouldn't be satisfied with simply ending his life.  They would kill him creatively, ensuring that he suffered.  He didn't want Frank to endure such a harsh fate.  He had already taken five bullets for him, and he had no intention of allowing his brother to die.  He couldn't do that to Frank's wife or their child.  He massaged his temple, hoping to ease the thumping that had begun in his head.  Mateo Luis was coming home.

*  *  *

Jesus Ortiz was displeased with Pablo.  He had yet to find Mateo.  The mission wasn't that difficult, and he didn't understand how one man could so thoroughly disappear.  Mateo had never mentioned having any family, and that left him with little leverage.  His heart broke at the thought of having to kill his _hermano_, but the moment he had gone against his wishes, he became his _enemigo_ (enemy).  He was no better than Ramirez and he would _muera como un perro amarillo_ (die like a yellow dog).  He never understood why Mateo was so weak when it came to taking a life of a betraying _hijo de una puta_ (son of a whore).  He seemed so very afraid of guns, especially large semi-automatics [Ortiz's personal favorite].  Mateo never explained.  If he couldn't defend himself with his fists, he wouldn't defend himself at all.  Ortiz sighed angrily.  There had to be something dear to Mateo that could be exploited, that would draw him back to Florida.  Every man had a weakness, be it women, money, or drugs.  If he could dig a little, he was sure to find Mateo's.

*  *  *

Jake sat at the large executive table in the conference room with his head down and his face buried in his arms.  He was one tired fucker.  Cody had given him a list of about a billion popular hangouts of Pablo Dominguez, and Jake had probably gone to about half of them in one night.  No luck.  He hated this hunting shit.  Undercover was great.  Nabbing bad guys was wonderful.  Hunting heads wasn't as much fun.  It was as if he did nothing but wait.  Jake hated waiting, he was never patient enough for it.  If he knew Donovan as well as he thought, he would have to go out again tonight.  Donovan was utterly convinced that Dominguez would be found.

"Everyone take a break," Donovan said suddenly, unexpectedly.  "Regroup in two hours."

*  *  *

Donovan slid the card key into the slot and pushed the door open.  Of course it was dark inside.  It was late, and she would have gone to bed by now.  He hadn't seen her in a couple of days, and he wondered how she stayed so well hidden.  He had caught himself looking for her everywhere, but true to her word, she had stayed out of sight.  However, he could find her easily enough.  The door closed behind him with a soft click, and he moved toward the bed slowly.  Smiling a little, he remembered what happened the last time they'd been separated for two days, and the hotel manager still glared at him when he walked past, his eyes seemingly screaming:  _elevators are not toys_!  He crept up to the bed and noticed the body of his wife snuggled securely under the covers, her back to him.  As he slid into bed beside her, he decided to send her home at the end of the week.  He didn't want her here any longer, especially not with this dangerous assignment.  He wasn't naïve; he knew that drug dealers loved exploiting a man's weaknesses, and wouldn't hesitate to harm his loved ones.  The game had suddenly changed, and he wouldn't continue to expose her to further danger.  She would fight him, of course, but he would put her on a plane even if he had to cuff her to the seat.  His reason for wanting her here was completely selfish, he knew, and he no longer deemed Farron the worse of two evils.  He hoped his brother would stay away.  

He watched her sleep for thirty minutes or more, satisfied [for the time being] just to lay his eyes on her.  He allowed his finger to trace a gentle line over her lips, and she stirred just the slightest bit.  After a brief moment, her lips kissed his finger gently before she ran her tongue over it.  Up until two nights ago, he had crept into her room almost nightly.  Most of the time, they didn't make love.  He had been happy with holding her and looking at her.  Soon, she would have to leave whether she agreed or not, but for the moment, he didn't want to deal with that thought.  

"Where have you been," she asked softly.  She wasn't sure if she was awake or dreaming.  It had been another long two days.

"Cooped up in a conference room with four surly agents who are quite frustrated right now.  Especially Jake."

She snuggled against him, almost burying her face entirely in the hollow between his throat and shoulder.  This she had done dozens of times.  It seemed to be the one spot where she felt the most secure.  "How long can you stay?"

"About an hour and a half," he said as his hand caressed her soft hair.  "Tomorrow, Loralei, we talk."

She sighed against him.  She had been anticipating this for a few days.  Donovan intended to send her home.  "We'll be talking about my departure, won't we?"  When he didn't immediately respond, she said, "You don't have to answer, Frank, that's okay.  That is tomorrow; this is right now."

Later, Loralei lay propped on her elbow as she watched Donovan finish dressing.  He was running late, and he was in a rush to leave.  This in and out thing made her feel as if she were having a sleazy affair.  The thought brought a smile to her face and she giggled.  Curiously, he turned toward her with a lifted eyebrow.  "If we keep this up, you're gonna get me in trouble," she said as she ran her hand over her abdomen.  

"And you accuse me of hanging out with Cody too much?  You're quite the comedienne, Dina K.," he said as he turned back around.  Loralei took in a sudden, sharp breath.  He turned back toward her and noticed her shocked expression.  Her hand lay on top of her stomach.  "What is it, Loralei," he asked, concerned.  "Is something wrong?"

She shook her head.  "No," she said.  "Not at all.  I felt something, Frank.  I think I felt the baby move.  It was a bubbly sensation, like butterflies in my stomach."  She reach out and took his hand and placed it onto her abdomen.  "Can you feel anything?"  He shook his head.  He was completely focused and concentrating hard.  "I felt it, Frank, I _know_ I did."  She leaned toward him and kissed his lips softly.  "I felt it, Frank," she said all misty-eyed [_hormones be damned_].  "I felt our baby move."

He took her in his arms and held her for a long time.  Now more than ever, he felt the desire to send her home.  

*  *  *

Farron Donovan kept a low profile in Florida.  He didn't return to his stomping grounds, because he needed to avoid Ortiz and Dominguez at all costs.  He had not reverted back to Mateo just yet.  He was too busy trying to find his brother, his wife, and the UC team.  When he landed at the airport a few days ago, he had no idea where to go from there.  He had no idea where they might have checked in.  There were dozens of hotels in the area, but he couldn't decide on one.  Years ago, he had been able to 'read' his twin, to 'feel' him.  He had lost that ability even before they had begun attending junior high.  But then, he wasn't sure he had totally lost it.  It could have simply been misplaced.  It was right around that time when Frank began to excel and he began to falter.  Farron had stopped trying to read him.  He had wanted to isolate himself from his twin, and trying to read him only kept him close.  Some slight movement, some flick of color caught his eye.  He couldn't quite explain what possessed him to notice it.  It was a splash of deep reddish brown [_they call that auburn]_, the color of Loralei's hair.  It couldn't be.  It was too easy.  

Farron continued to duck the crowd and didn't make eye contact with anyone.  From a distance, he watched and waited.  When the woman stepped out in plain view, he was convinced it was she.  The hair was a good clue, but the slight bulge in her middle was a dead giveaway.  Where was Frank?  Surely, he wouldn't stay behind.  Or would he?  He continued to follow her.  Eventually, she would lead him to Frank.

When Loralei took a detour to a store, Farron went across the street to a bar.  From his vantage point, he could see her plainly.  While he waited for her next move, he ordered bourbon and slammed it down.  His nerves were jumping, and he needed to remain calm.  He would have to come clean today, either to Loralei or Frank.  After about fifteen minutes, Loralei left the store, and Farron got moving again.  She strolled steadily and quickly toward the expanse of hotels just ahead.  _Bueno_, he thought.  _Goddamn, I'm even reverting to Spanish_.  Mateo was trying to come out.  Loralei was heading directly where he hoped.  The bourbon made him a bit unsteady on his feet, but he didn't care.  He needed to get to her, and then he had to see Frank before it was too late.

Once in her room, Loralei let out a deep sigh as she threw her bag down onto the bed.  Her little stroll had tired her right out.  Actually, she was tired the moment she got out of bed this morning.  After Donovan left, she had lain half the night waiting for the baby to move again.  She didn't feel it for the rest of the night.  She didn't think her husband believed she felt anything more than indigestion.  _Damn it, I felt the baby_.  Her husband was quite analytical, but he could also be concrete at the same time.  If he couldn't touch it, see it, feel it, or smell it, it didn't exist.  _Men_, she thought, _what do they know anyway_?  Donovan was set to return to her tonight for their 'talk.'  She hadn't bothered waiting for the talk.  She had already begun packing for the trip back.  Loralei didn't want to leave, but she really had no choice.  She _was_ stubborn, but she was also concerned about the baby.  She remembered what happened the last time she had gotten pregnant.  Her stubbornness had led to a miscarriage.  Of course, Donovan would argue against that with everything in him, but he was wrong.  She knew and had known from the moment she felt the first cramp.  She would not jeopardize this baby for anything.  

She smiled a little as a stray thought entered her mind.  A week or two ago, she had found out what they were having, but she had yet to tell her husband.  She wondered if she should tell him or make him wait.  He wanted to know, he had made that plain, but on the day she had gone to her appointment, he hadn't attended.  So for now, it was her little secret.  She turned toward the bathroom to start the shower, but a brisk knock on the door drew her attention away.  Figuring it was her husband, she didn't even bother to look through the peephole.  She swung the door open and stood face-to-face with Farron.

"What the hell are you doing here," she asked.  Was he following them?  He had conveniently shown up too many times.  "How did you find me?"

"I suggest you let me in, Loralei.  The longer I stay out here, the more likely Frank will die."

The look on his face was serious.  There was nothing to indicate that he was trying to bullshit her.  She stepped back and allowed him to enter the room.  She only prayed that Donovan wouldn't appear.  "Have you somehow gotten Frank in trouble?"

He sighed and clenched his teeth.  Shaking his head, he said, "Not exactly, unless you consider our being twins getting him in trouble."

"You're not making sense, Farron.  What kind of game are you playing?"

He took hold of her arms and stared down into her eyes.  It was a stance she was more than familiar with.  It was one Donovan used often.  "I'm playing no game."

Farron was close enough for her to smell his breath.  It was tainted by bourbon.  "You don't have to grab me like this.  I'll listen."

He shook his head.  "No you won't.  Since you found out what I did to Frank years ago, you're not willing to listen unless I force you."

His grip was vise-like, inescapable.  "Tell me what you want, and then get out.  Frank is coming very soon, and I don't want you here.  He'll hurt you, physically, especially when he sees what you're doing."

Donovan men.  Divide and conquer.  In retrospect, he would never understand why he did what he did.  Was it the bourbon?  Or was it just the sheer anger coursing through his veins?  He mashed his mouth down on hers and tried to force her lips apart with his tongue, but she kept her lips sealed shut.  She beat at his chest and tried to push him off, but he had a strong hold on her.  The pressure on her arms grew painful as he tried to crush his body against hers.  She wasn't having that.  She struggled until she freed an arm.  She shoved him backward with force and then slapped his face hard.  He stared down at her as if he hadn't even been aware of what he was doing.

"I'm sorry," he spat.  "I didn't-didn't-"  There were deep red marks on her arms, and he was sure those marks would become bruises by morning.

"_Get out_," she spat through clenched teeth.  "Get out or I'll call the police."  He made a step toward her, as an act of attrition.  "Don't come near me again," she cried.  "Get out, _I mean it_."

Horrified at what he'd done, he backed away from her until he hit the door.  He opened the door and slipped out.

*  *  *

Donovan slipped quietly into the room.  He was upset that he hadn't been able to get to her sooner, but there was just no time.  As usual, he found her in bed, but something was drastically wrong.  She was still dressed and lay huddled on the bed.  He climbed in behind her and the moment he touched her, she cried out.  The moment she saw his face, she went into his arms and cried against him.  He noticed the angry red marks on her arms, but he didn't understand.

"What happened," he asked urgently.  "Who touched you?  Who hurt you?"  She didn't answer him.  She only cried.  He gently pushed her back so he could look at her.  "Loralei, baby, tell me what happened."  He ran a hand gently over a red mark on one arm.  Finger marks.  "Who did this?  Tell me."

She went into his embrace again.  "No," she cried, "I can't tell you, I…can't."

"Yes you can," he said.  "You _must_.  Who did it, Loralei?  _Who_," he demanded.

Loralei moved back and hastily wiped her tears away.  "I'm okay.  Just shaken up.  I'm not hurt."

"No, Loralei, you _are_ hurt.  Who touched you?  _Tell me_," he demanded again, this time staring intently into her eyes.

She shook her head.  "No, I can't.  You don't understand."

Suddenly, he knew, and he understood.  Something about the way she looked at him gave it away immediately.  How had the fucker found her?  "Farron did this to you," he asked quietly, his voice taking on a severe, almost enraged tone.  She didn't say a word; she gazed up at him helplessly, _apologetically_.  "Wherever he is, I'll find him," he began in a harsh whisper, "and when I do, I'll fix him where he won't have enough strength to even _glance_ at you."

"Frank, no-"

He cut her off and took her body back into his embrace.  "He crossed the line when he sought you out at all, and that I could forget.  What he did to you tonight is something I will _not_ let him get away with.  _He will never touch you again_."


	7. Goodbyes & Payback

CHAPTER 7—GOODBYES & PAYBACK

Loralei sat on the bedside without moving or saying a word.  She was still in shock and didn't know much of what was going on around her.  Donovan stood in front of the bedside table speaking quietly into the phone.  She was lucid enough to wonder how he kept the enraged anger out of his voice as he spoke.  To hear him, one would have never thought he was angry enough to commit murder.  Right at that moment, his concern for her was outweighing his rage.  When he laid eyes on Farron, he would have all the time he wanted to be pissed off and homicidal.  He hung up the phone and turned slowly toward his wife.  Donovan kneeled before her, wrapping one arm around her while the other rose up so his hand could caress her soft hair.  She had insisted that she was okay, but he didn't believe it.  His dark eyes searched her face, but she had yet to meet his gaze.  She seemed ashamed, as if she had asked for his brother to grab her.  She had let him inside, but never had she asked to be attacked, especially not by his bastard brother.  Donovan wanted to kill him; he literally wanted to strangle the life out of him.  Or better still, he would hold him down and let Loralei beat the living shit out of him.  He hated seeing her so distraught.

"There was a cancellation tonight.  Your flight back to Chicago departs at four this morning," he said.  She said nothing; she didn't even acknowledge his words at all.  He wanted _his _Loralei to surface and argue vehemently against him.  Anything was better than this.  "Loralei?  Baby, please look at me."

She shook her head and began to cry again.  Her tears were silent and pained, not a bit similar to the wailing cries when he first saw her.  "I can't, Frank," she whispered.  "I let him in.  I should have known better.  I don't think he would have done it if he hadn't been drinking.  I'm fine, I really am, but I'm shaken.  I'm not-not even _thinking _about him.  I'm thinking about our baby, Frank.  Something could-could have happened to the baby."

His hand moved from her hair to her chin where he gently turned her face toward him.  She stubbornly cast her eyes downward.  She didn't want to look at him.  "No," he whispered.  "Nothing is going to happen to the baby, Loralei."  He moved the arm encircling her waist so that his hand could stroke her stomach ever so gently.  Her hurt and guilt had never gone away when she miscarried so long ago.  She had been punishing herself for months, and could never be convinced that she wasn't at fault.  Her fear was completely justified, but also irrational.  "You said it yourself.  The baby moved within you.  That should tell you something right there.  You have the best of both of us inside you, and if anything, this child will be stubborn."

Her eyes finally met his.  A tiny hint of a smile touched her lips.  "Definitely.  Boy, are we going to have _our_ hands full."

He leaned toward her to kiss her, but his infernal cell phone rang.  It was the work phone, and he was in no hurry to get back.  He sighed and decided to ignore it for a moment.  He kissed her lips very softly.  After it was broken, he felt her arms going around him.  He held onto her and closed his eyes tightly.  Her body was trembling slightly against his.  Despite what she said, she _wasn't _fine.  He felt his teeth gritting together harshly.  His anger coursed through him, and he would make Farron pay.  

She drew away from him after a very long moment.  "Go, Donovan, you're needed," she said.

He nodded.  "Yes, I am.  I'm needed right here, and this is where I'll stay until I see you off."

*  *  *

Later, at the airport, Donovan handed Loralei her carry-on.  Up until a few minutes ago, he had worn it slung haphazardly over his shoulder.  Her flight had been called, and they didn't have much time.  He wasn't necessarily into long goodbyes, it only postponed the inevitable.  He took his wife into his embrace and placed a gentle kiss on her ear.

"I'll call as often as I can," he whispered into her ear.

She nodded and momentarily tightened her hold on his body.  "I know you will."

Loralei released him suddenly, forcing her body out of his arms.  She was close to calling off the whole deal, but a tiny little life was depending on her, and she wouldn't fail again.  She turned away from him quickly.  His eyes were on her, and she couldn't look at him, not unless she wanted to start bawling like a spoiled child.  She walked steadily toward the smiling flight attendant who waited for her ticket.  Just before handing it over, Loralei turned back toward Donovan.  She knew he would still be there, watching, worrying.  He stood gazing after her, lifting his eyebrow curiously, as if he were asking 'what is it?'  _Don't you dare start arguing **now**_, he thought.

She smiled a little and placed her hand on her stomach.  "Oh, by the way, Daddy, it's a girl."

"A daughter," he spat, puzzled.  "How long have you known?"    

She chuckled teasingly.  "Longer than you."  Without another word, she turned away to give her ticket to the flight attendant.

*  *  *

Donovan and Loralei hadn't come to the airport alone.  One man had tailed them since they had left the hotel.  The other had already been in the airport searching for another.  His dark eyes watched the couple very carefully.  He had no idea his luck would run this way.  Dominguez was totally unaware that Mateo had a woman, and a pregnant one at that.  He had known him for many years, and he never mentioned anything.  In fact, Mateo had always had a different woman every week.  How long had he been hiding this little secret?  He found a weakness, a good one.  He wondered where the little woman was going.  He also wondered how easily he could find out that information.

Farron had followed his brother and Loralei to the airport.  While watching them, he noticed an all too familiar figure.  Pablo.  Dominguez was looking right at his brother and his wife.  Oh God.  He had seen Frank and Loralei.  Dominguez was heartless.  He wouldn't care to harm either Loralei or her baby.  In fact, he would probably enjoy it.  He didn't doubt that Loralei was Chicago bound, and it would only take a few moments for Dominguez to find out.  Another thought struck him.  He knew that by now, Frank had discovered what he'd done to Loralei, and he would rightfully be after his blood.  However, he would have to approach his brother to let him know his life, as well as those of his wife and child, were in danger.  

*  *  *

Donovan went back to the makeshift office directly from the airport.  He didn't expect to see anyone there at this ungodly hour, but he was wrong.  Cody had gotten a jump-start on the day and was going through dozens of hours of surveillance from Jake's sojourn the night before.  He was trying to identify Dominguez in a sea of faces.  Donovan didn't know where he got the patience for it.  If he had to do it, he would become a crazed maniac.  On another monitor beside Cody, a photo was frozen on the screen.  It was a blurry surveillance camera shot taken at a party.  There were several men in the photograph, one of them was Dominguez.  Every now and then, Cody would run the feed, then glance at the other computer screen.  Nothing.  Jake had gone to many different hangouts, but hadn't quite seen his target.  Something had to give soon, if not, they would all go off running in the streets screaming into the dark night.

Jake burst in suddenly carrying a matchbook in his hand.  There was a victorious gleam in his eyes.  He slapped the matchbook down beside Cody and exclaimed,  "Look at this," he said proudly.

"Wow.  Did some girl give you her number," Cody asked without taking his eyes off the screens.

"You can stop looking at that screen.  This guy came up to me last night, out of the blue.  He asked if I was the trafficker they were all hearing about.  He wasn't exactly Dominguez, but he's in the same gang.  We're meeting tonight."

Donovan sighed, relieved.  A break.  Finally.  He hoped that it would lead to a swift case closure and a return trip home to his wife.  He nodded.  "Great news.  Good work, Jake."

"Boss, I saw one of the weirdest things about fifteen minutes ago," he said.

He turned toward the agent and looked at him with a lifted eyebrow.  "That was?"

"This guy was skulking around the lobby, hiding.  When he saw me watching, he ducked away.  But I swear to God, he could have been your twin," he said.

Donovan's jaw set and he pressed his lips together tightly.  "That _was_ my twin," he spat petulantly.  "My brother, Farron.  Where did he go?"

Jake backed away from the utter rage in Donovan's eyes.  "I'm not sure," he answered.  "He was in the lobby."

Without another word, Donovan stalked out of the conference room.  Jake and Cody exchanged a look between them [_whafuck_] before Jake ran after him.  Donovan wasn't aware of anything or anyone around him.  He didn't hear Jake behind him, asking him to stop.  His mind was focused singly on finding Farron and beating the shit out of him.  If Jake had just seen him in the lobby, he was probably still there, but he did not understand why.  Farron had to know that Loralei had told him what happened.  Why was the fucker still around?  Didn't he realize that he would tear him limb from limb?  Was he that fucking dense?  With flaring nostrils, Donovan entered the lobby.  It was still early, and there wasn't much activity yet, and if Farron were here, he'd find him easily.  He stood in the middle of the room, scanning it, searching high and low.  _Show your face_, he thought, _be a man for once in your life_.

Jake finally caught up with Donovan.  "What the hell's going on," he demanded gruffly.

"Stay out of this, Jake," he spat, fixing him with a cold stare.  "This has nothing to do with you."      

Farron didn't bother ducking Frank when he saw him.  Even from his vantage point, he could clearly see the rage in his eyes.  It was as if he were looking at his own demise.  Honestly, he couldn't blame him.  Perhaps after Frank beat him up, he would listen to his plea and warning.  His wife and child were to be targets.  Slowly, he came around the corner in plain view of Frank's eyes.  His twin fixed him with a murderous stare.  Behind Donovan, Jake couldn't help but gasp aloud.  The boss hadn't been joking.  This dude was his twin, all right, _identical_.  At first, Donovan couldn't even move.  He was so enraged that his feet seemed to be planted on the carpet.  This man who had fucked up his life beyond all reason and sanity, had dared to lay his hands on his pregnant wife, stood before him as if he had done nothing wrong.  Loralei's fucking tears were still drying on his shirt, for Christ's sake, and this man didn't seem to care.  He didn't seem to care about anything.  Giving in to his rage, his hatred, he flew at his brother.

Farron felt Donovan's hand going around his throat.  As if on a will of its own, his body was slammed into the far wall on the other fucking side of the room.  He was certain his feet had never touched the floor.  When his head connected with the hardwood, he heard an audible cracking noise, and pain began to explode at the back of his skull.  Donovan's grip was vicious and choking.  His face was drawn into a horrid snarl.  At that moment, Farron was sure his twin had literally lost his mind.  He released Farron's throat long enough to draw back his fist and smash it into his face.  He felt an immediate, but satisfying pain his hand.  Farron's head jerked to the side of his body, and the blow forced him to stagger.  Donovan stood back, breathing heavily, waiting for his brother to recover so he could hit him again.  Jake tried to grab his arm and pull him off, but he jerked free of his grip, and fixed his crazed stare on him.  By that time, Farron had recovered sufficiently enough to throw his own punch.  It landed squarely, with force, on Donovan's jaw.

More than enraged now, Donovan turned to his brother.  His lip was bleeding and his cheek was bright red.  He hoped he had broken his cheekbone.  Snarling again, he drew back and drove his fist into Farron's face again.  This time, he fell to the floor in a punch drunk daze.  Donovan pounced on him.  Grabbing him by his shirt collar, he hit Farron over and over again, ruthlessly, and brutally.  Farron was down for good, his head swimming sickly, his vision graying, and then almost blacking out totally.  At that time, Donovan reached for his throat and had his hands wrapped around it.  He had every intention of choking him.  It was then that Jake jumped in, with the assistance of a few security guards, and began the fruitless task of trying to pull Donovan off the fallen man.  Donovan fought back at them, had even begun to fight against his agent.  He wasn't finished.  The fucker was still moving.  His mission would not be complete until Farron could no longer twitch one single muscle.

"_Stand up and face me, goddamn you_," Donovan roared.  "_Stand up and fight me.  Fight **me**, not my pregnant wife_."  He broke free of the men holding him, and he took after Farron again.  He grabbed a handful of his long black hair and jerked him up to face him.  His face was beaten and bloody, hardly recognizable.  "If you _ever_ touch her again, I'll fucking kill you," he said through clenched teeth.  "Say something, you bastard.  Say something _now_."

"Donovan, Jesus," Jake spat, "Back off.  He's down."

He ignored Jake's sensible plea.  "_Say something_," he spat.

There were only a few words Farron cared to speak, only a few that would get through to his brother.  "Your wife," he spat.  "She's…she's in danger."  After he had choked out the words, he blacked out.  

Donovan shook him viciously, glaring down into his face.  "_What do you mean_," he shouted.  "_Tell me, goddamn you_."

The hands were on him again, pulling him away.  From far, far away [he had visited that place once before, right after he thought Loralei had died], he could hear Jake's urgent voice, demanding that he let him go.

*  *  *

Donovan sat in the conference room nursing his hand.  He thought he might have broken it, but he could still move it around a little.  It would probably become useless to him by nightfall.  Security had laid Farron out in the same room [dumb move], but they hovered over him until he regained consciousness.  He refused medical attention, but accepted a washcloth and an icepack for his face.  One eye was almost completely swollen shut, and he couldn't see out of the other very well.  He couldn't believe his brother had consented to sitting in the same room with him.  Farron didn't know, but Donovan wanted to talk to him, but only about what he'd said regarding Loralei's safety.

He stared coldly at his twin brother.  He wanted nothing more than to fly over the conference table and finish the job.  "Why is my wife in danger," Donovan demanded.  "What have you done?  Tell me, or I swear to God, I'll fucking throw you out the window."

Farron held the icepack against his eye.  His head thumped sickly, and he thought he might vomit.  "Take a look at that computer screen," he spat, his words obstructed a bit by his swollen bottom lip.  "Look very closely.  Tell me who you see."

Too flabbergasted to deny his request, he moved over to the second screen that Cody had been staring at all morning.  He focused his eyes on the screen, nearly burning them into it.  Why hadn't he noticed before?  In the very back of the 'gang,' there was a fellow with dark hair slicked back away from his face, and braided into a long ponytail.  Sunglasses were shielding his eyes.  Donovan turned toward his twin and fixed a stupefied gaze on him.  "You," he spat.

"You're looking at Mateo Luis," he said slowly, painfully.  "I'm the witness you seek."

Enraged, Donovan flew at Farron again.  He didn't hit the other man.  Instead, he jerked him by his shirt collar and glowered down into his face.  "_What did you do, Farron?  What the fuck did you do_?"

"You're a powerful man, _mi hermano_," he croaked out.  "I suggest you call and have her plane redirected.  If you don't, you won't ever see her alive again."

"Why do they want her, Farron?  Why her?  She isn't a part of this," he spat.

"They want her, Frank, because they saw you at the airport.  They think you're me, and that Loralei is my woman.  If you don't stop her, they will be waiting at the airport.  I cannot say what they will do to her, but I know it won't be fast or humane.  I know that they will not hesitate to kill her or your child.  These men don't care, especially Dominguez.  Do it, Frank, or you will lose her, you will lose them both."

He released his brother and he fell back to the plushy chair with an audible thud.  Donovan made a mad dash to the telephone and dialed up the flight control center.  Hastily, he spat out his name and security clearance, not wanting to take time to do it.  After listening to the bored voice on the other end of the line, Donovan spat, "What do I want you to do," he asked, dumbfounded.  "Turn the fucking plane around and bring it back."   __


	8. Diversions

CHAPTER 8—DIVERSIONS

A slice of light began to break through on the horizon.  Of course, Loralei was unaware of it.  She didn't have a window seat, and really, she didn't give a ripe fuck about the sunrise.  The flight would be fairly short, and despite the slight delay in take off, she would be home before nine.  Her stubborn streak, which never went away, was gnawing at her.  She was worried about her husband, worried about his anger.  She knew exactly what he was capable of when pushed to the extreme.  Donovan had never told her right out, but she knew what had happened to him while she was fighting for her life after the Black Heart's attack.  At the time, she had still been in the hospital, and was finally allowed to have unlimited visitors.  She had seen each member of Donovan's team, her partner, her parents, cousins, friends, dogs, cats, and so on.  One evening after everyone left, Alex lingered with her.  Loralei sensed that the other woman wanted to speak to her about something, but she didn't understand her apprehension.  After Loralei asked, Alex gave her the details of the Black Heart's second capture.  Still in nosy mode, Loralei pushed for information, pushed to know Donovan's role.  She knew he was involved with it, but she didn't know in what capacity.  She was also aware that something hugely significant had shaken him.  She could see it in his eyes when he looked at her.  Gently, tentatively, Alex told her what happened to Donovan's mind, and the fact that he burned on his need for vengeance until he was given solid proof that Loralei had survived.  She learned how close he had come to basically losing it all.  She didn't want to see him pushed to that level, didn't want to think that she would lose him because of that.  She couldn't even imagine what he would do to his brother once he found him.  She leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes, but she didn't find sleep.  She couldn't rest, and probably wouldn't until Donovan came home safe and sound.

A soft sound, _dong_, rang out into the interior of the plane.  Loralei ignored it.  It seemed as if they announced every damn thing imaginable during a flight.  "Attention, ladies and gentlemen.  This is your captain speaking.  We have had a slight diversion in our flight plan this morning.  We will be returning to Tampa at this time.  We're sorry for any inconvenience, and we hope you fly with us again soon."

Moans, groans, protests, and curses issued from all the passengers, with the exception of Loralei.  Her eyes flew open and she sat up.  They were going back to Florida?  What the hell?  Something was wrong, and she felt her heart pounding in her chest.  When a flight attendant approached her, she wasn't surprised at all.  Horrible dread sank down to her very core.  She was certain that something had happened to Donovan.

"Excuse me, miss.  Are you Loralei Donovan?"

Loralei blinked up at the attendant stupidly, as if she didn't understand the question.  Unconsciously, her hands went down to her stomach.  She nodded.  "Yes, I'm Loralei Donovan.  What-"

She didn't have time to complete her sentence; the attendant leaned toward her and took her gently by the forearm.  Thousands of horrible thoughts entered her mind.  What happened?  Was her husband hurt?  Dead?  Loralei allowed the attendant to lead her toward the front of the plane.  Never had she been on a plane where someone was lead to the cockpit.  She followed mutely, praying that nothing was wrong, that she wouldn't have to lose her mind or show out on this silver tube flying four hundred miles per hour.  Once inside the cockpit, both the pilot and co-pilot were staring at her curiously.  One of them was holding a radio mic in hand.

"Agent Donovan, we have your wife here," the fellow holding the mic said.

"Thank you," Donovan said, his voice beautifully crisp and clear.  "Put her on, I need to speak to her."

The man handed her the radio and tried to instruct her on how to use it.  She snatched it from him.  "I know how to use a radio," she snapped.  "Frank?  What the hell is going on?"

"I'll explain when you get back.  When you get to the airport, do not speak to anyone, do not approach anyone.  Stay where you can watch the crowd, and find the nearest security guard.  Don't go anywhere unless you're in plain sight of security, or until you see me.  I'm on my way right now, and I hope I'll arrive not long after you."

"What's wrong," she demanded, "_Tell me_."

"I can't.  Not like this.  You'll know everything when I see you again.  I promise."

*  *  *

While Jake and Donovan made a mad dash to the airport, Monica, Alex, and Cody stayed with Farron.  Curiously, one or the other of them would glance at the injured man.  They didn't quite understand how Donovan's wife had gotten thrust into the middle of this outrageous mess.  None of them knew that Loralei was in Florida.  After their boss offhandedly mentioned that his wife was pregnant, they hadn't seen much of her at all.  He had begun to guard his private life, to shield it against the outside.  Of course, they couldn't really blame him.  The couple had gone through some wickedly gut wrenching shit.  Then out of the blue, Donovan's brother [_his identical twin brother_] appears and is almost beaten to death for apparently touching Loralei.  It boggled the mind.  If that wasn't confusing enough, the twin announced that he was the elusive witness to the Ramirez assassination-the second secondhand man of Jesus Ortiz, the country's most notorious drug and arms dealer.  How awkward was it for a federal agent to have a drug trafficking brother?  What more did Donovan intend to dig up from his past?  Ex-wives?  More children?  Secrets of Al Capone's vault? Just when they thought they were getting to know their icy leader, he had pulled even more mysteries out of his bag of tricks.  

Since Farron confessed that he was Mateo Luis, Donovan [very grudgingly] officially put him in protective custody.  Of course, none of them thought Farron would actually be able to go anywhere for a while.  Although they could very well see that this fellow was Donovan's twin brother, his face was a mess.  The swelling in his eye and bottom lip hadn't gone down despite the tons of cold compresses he applied to it.  He popped endless aspirin tablets to alleviate the pain, but it wasn't helping.  His thoughts were drawn to escape.  The agent known as Jake intended to meet with Dominguez and Ortiz tonight to induct him into the gang.  If they were to discover that Jake was an _el federale_,he wouldn't see the light of day again.  They would torture him mercilessly.  Farron's former gang was heartless, and he couldn't believe he stayed amongst them so very long.  Now, his _hermanos_ were set to destroy Frank and everything he loved.  He had a few options and an idea drifting into his head, but he wasn't sure if it would pan out.

"So, uh, Double Vision," Cody began, "how do you fit in all this?"

Farron fixed his eyes [or at least tried to, anyway] on the geeky looking child in a man's body.  "You want a confession, _el hombre pequeño_ (little man)?"  He didn't give Cody an opportunity to respond.  He cut him off with a dismissive wave that was sooooooooo Frank Donovan, Cody wanted to laugh.  "I'll try to make this _corto y el dulce_ (short and sweet).  Frank is a good man, a steady man.  He knew what side of the fence he wanted to tread upon.  I did not.  He took the hard way; I always tend to choose the easy way.  Frank was good at leading, domineering, and bullying.  I was a follower.  Easy money appealed to me, as did taking risks.  I chose the life of an _endroge negociante_ (drug trafficker) because I found something I was good at, something that Frank would never try."  He chuckled sardonically.  "I found my _nicho_ (niche), but I never took a man's life.  I was ordered to do so, but I didn't.  You see, years ago, Frank took bullets meant for me, and since then, I have had no use for guns of any kind.  Mateo Luis was a nice cover.  If they ever heard my true name, Frank would have never made it as far as he has."

Cody wouldn't let it rest.  The 'little man' comment had irritated him.  "Okay," he said thoughtfully.  "Why did he beat you up?"

_Pissant_, Farron thought.  "Perhaps that's something we should not discuss?"

Cody smiled a little and crossed his arms over his chest.  At that moment, he was absolutely fascinated.  Monica and Alex exchanged a look and rolled their eyes dramatically.  "Why not?  You've told us your life history.  Might as well tell us why Donovan nearly killed you."

Farron placed yet another compress to his swollen eye.  _Yo lo podría estrangular_ (I could strangle you), he thought.  "You want to know all my _los secretos_ (secrets), no?  I contacted his wife to assist me in reconciling with my brother.  I wanted to come to him with this, because I want to leave the life.  Let me say that I did something foolish, and I hurt her.  When someone hurts something Frank loves, that he worships, he loses his mind a little.  He repaid me for touching his woman."

Cody shook his head and whistled sympathetically.  "Double Vision, that was a bonehead move, my man."

*  *  *

It seemed as if he walked the entire length of the airport a dozen times, and there was still no sight of Loralei.  _The damn plane should have gotten back by now_, Donovan thought.  Jake canvassed the other side of the airport, and every few minutes, he gave him the same update:  no sign.  He didn't doubt that some of Dominguez's cronies had probably flown into Chicago to await Loralei's arrival.  That thought haunted Donovan, regardless of the fact that she was on her way back.  He couldn't drive Farron's words out of his head.  He knew the inner workings of a drug family, he had seen enough in his career.  They never took kindly to betrayal.  The fuckers had seen him, had seen his wife, and were now hell-bent to seek their revenge.  If anything happened to her or their child, he'd die.

Loralei hurriedly got off the plane and went straight for her luggage.  She carried out Donovan's instructions to the letter.  She scanned the people moving this way and that, scurrying along, rushing to catch a flight.  She didn't immediately see a security guard.  She walked around in a shocked kind of daze, wondering what the hell happened bad enough for her husband to redirect an airplane.  There was no one in the crowd that even resembled Donovan.  Nervously, she stopped walking to look around at her surroundings.  She dropped her bags and crossed her arms over her chest.  Irritatingly enough, she felt the bitter sting of tears tweaking her eyes.  _This is not the time for raging hormones_, she thought.  For a moment, she felt angry with her husband.  He refused to tell her what happened while she was on the plane, and yet, he wasn't here as he promised.  There was nothing she could do, and she hated that feeling more than any other.  Sighing heavily, she picked up her luggage and plodded along.  Every now and then, her eyes would search the crowd for the familiar and comforting figure of Donovan.  _Where are you_?  _What's going on_?  She gave up for a moment and stopped again.  Her bags felt as if they each weighed twenty tons.  Nervous, frustrated tears trickled from her eyes.  She wiped them away hastily.  She didn't want anyone to see the pathetic pregnant woman losing her mind.  

Nothing.  _Goddamn it, Loralei.  Where are you?_  Donovan felt the first tinges of impatience eating away at him.  He fought back the panic that threatened to seize and hold onto him for dear life.  The thought that something had already happened to Loralei entered his mind more than once.  The rage that had all but left him began to sink its teeth into his heart.  Farron had left yet another mess for him to clean up.  It wouldn't have been so bad if Loralei hadn't been inadvertently drawn into Farron's game.  After his wife was safe, after this case was closed, he intended to cut every tie with his brother.  He would not see or speak to him again.  This time, it was truly over.  He moved through the throngs of morning travelers, his gun at the ready if he needed it, and kept steadily searching for Loralei.  He hoped bringing Jake along would speed up the hunt, but it didn't.  

She made another scan of the crowd.  She had just about decided that Donovan wasn't going to show up.  She was certain something had happened.  She decided to find a telephone and call the hotel.  The waiting was eating her alive.  She turned to pick up one of her bags, and she caught the hint of a white shirt and black hair.  _Frank_?  She stepped out a little to get a better look.  His back was to her, but she would recognize him anywhere, under any circumstance.  The anger she felt earlier drifted away.

_Oh God_, she thought, _how sickeningly melodramatic.  Fodder for **Lifetime **movies.   _"Frank!"

He stopped as he heard the beautiful sound of Loralei's voice.  Nothing could ever be sweeter.  He turned toward the shout, and wondered how he hadn't seen her on his first pass.  She waited patiently [a first for her] while he shrugged his way through the crowd.  Once he made it to her, he took her into his embrace and held her against him, cupping the back of her head into his good hand.  He didn't want to voice the thoughts swirling in his head.  Dear God, he had expected the worst, but received the best.  He drew away from her for a moment to get his mouth on hers.  He kissed her hard and hungrily.

"By the sound of that, I guess it means you found her," Jake's voice said into his ear.

After he broke the kiss, Donovan chuckled in relief and said, "Mind your own business, Agent Shaw."  He wasted no time talking to Loralei.  He grabbed her two bags and she hoisted up her carry-on.  "We have to move out of here immediately," he said.  "We'll talk, but not until we get to the hotel."

Jake drove them back as Loralei and Donovan sat in the backseat, barely able to keep their hands off each other.  _Ugh, disgusting_, he thought.  _If they don't stop, I'm going to pull over and get the hell out_.  "Do you guys want some privacy?  I'll let you have the truck if you want it, and I'll hitchhike back."

Donovan said nothing, but of course, Loralei could always be counted upon if flippancy was the order of the day.  She glanced up at Jake's reflection in the rearview mirror.  "Do you mind?  It would only take a few minutes."

"Goddamn it, Loralei," Donovan spat as he ran his hand through her hair.  "A few minutes hell.  It might take ten seconds," he said, low enough for only her to hear [or so he thought].

_Ew ew ew ew ew_, Jake thought.  _Get me the fuck out of here_.  "Come on guys, knock it off, really."

Loralei's relieved playfulness ended the moment she saw Donovan's injured hand.  He had wrapped it up tightly, but his fingers could easily be seen.  They appeared swollen and red.  She gently took his hand into hers.  "Frank?  What happened to your hand?"

"My brother," he said sedately.

"You didn't," she said.

"He did," Jake said from the front.  "I was a witness."

*  *  *

At the hotel, Donovan, Jake, and Loralei entered the makeshift office, and the first thing Loralei saw was Farron.  His face was a mass of bruises; his lip was swollen and dried blood had caked at the corner of his mouth.  His eye was the worst.  It was swollen shut and the flesh over it seemed bumpy and misshapen.  _No wonder Frank's hand is ruined_, she thought.  She could do very little except stare at him.  She tore her eyes away for a moment and glanced up at her husband.  There was a slight trace of regret in his eyes, but he tried to hide it.  It was no use, she could see it.  When she focused her eyes back on Farron's brutalized face, he was looking at her, seemingly wanting to speak.  He had no intention of giving his brother another reason to attack him.

"What the hell is going on," Loralei demanded.  "You said we would talk when we got back.  So talk, Donovan."

He sighed heavily.  "My brother is a drug trafficker who works for Jesus Ortiz.  His friend assassinated a senator and Farron was a witness to this murder.  He is the person we've been looking to protect.  Bottom line, Loralei, one of his gang saw us at the airport.  He was under the assumption that I was Farron, and you were with him.  These men were likely on their way to Chicago to take you.  Your flight had to be diverted.  If I hadn't done that…"  He couldn't finish his thought with words, but his eyes spoke for him.  Throughout his explanation, he didn't bother looking at Farron once.  He couldn't.  He was afraid he would take after him again. 

Loralei shook her head.  "Oh my God," she said, nearly gasping in shock.  She turned away from Donovan and approached Farron.  

Mutely, he looked up at her with his good eye.  Her green eyes were enraged.  He was readying for another punch.  "Go ahead," Farron said.  "If it'll make you feel better, blacken my good eye."

Instead of throwing a punch, Loralei spat in his face.  She turned away and marched to the other side of the room.  For a moment, for a very _brief_ moment, even Donovan felt badly for Farron.  When he turned around to look at his wife, she sat at the conference table with her head in her hands.  What an awful mess.  Slowly, Donovan approached her from behind and settled his hands on her shoulders.  

"Frank, they're coming after you now.  Goddamn it.  Goddamn it all," she moaned.

He moved to wrap his arms around her and he laid his cheek atop her head.  He wanted to say something, to comfort her, but he couldn't.  His thoughts were identical to hers, with the exception of his feeling they were coming after her instead.  He said nothing.  He held her protectively against him until her anger drifted away.

*  *  *

That night, Jake and Alex [posing as Jake's girlfriend] infiltrated the Ortiz/Dominguez gang while the rest of the team monitored the situation carefully.  The recording device hidden in Alex's wristwatch picked up every word, every nuance perfectly.  Cody certainly knew his shit.  They listened to the good-natured Spanish banter before Dominguez began cursing Mateo Luis.  Farron began to pay attention at that point.  They made mention of seeing him at the airport with his woman.  Dominguez then admitted that he had sent a buddy of his to Chicago to take the woman, but she never showed.  He was angry and asked Jake/Miguel if he wanted the assignment of helping track down Mateo and his woman.  Of course, Jake/Miguel agreed.  Dominguez boasted that he had men in every corner of the city that would be more than happy to aid in the search for Mateo and the woman.

Loralei listened and watched carefully.  Donovan hadn't wanted her in on this, but there was really nowhere for her to go.  She refused to leave his side.  Honestly, he didn't want to lose sight of her, especially considering the threat. 

"He's not kidding," Farron said suddenly.  "He and Ortiz have many helpers, including the addicts who buy the drugs."

Donovan didn't like the sound of that.  Where the hell could Loralei go?  Where would she be safe?  She couldn't go home, and she certainly couldn't stay here.  His anger toward Farron flared again.  He was tempted to hit him just for the sheer joy of it.  This was the ultimate fuck up of all fuck ups.  "How could you do this, Farron?  How could you become so immersed in this that you would risk the lives of your own fucking family to make easy money?  Can you tell me?"

Farron focused his good eye on Donovan's face.  "How was I to know this would happen to you?"

It was the typical Farron Donovan answer, a complete and total cop-out.  Donovan snarled and went for his brother again.  Before he had the chance to raise his fist, Loralei ran up to him and took hold of his arm.  

"_No, Frank_," she cried, "No.  This won't help."

He backed away, breathing heavily, and turned so he wouldn't have to look at him.  He walked over to the conference table and sat down heavily.  Control.  He needed to regain control. 

*  *  *

"Loralei," Donovan whispered.  "Wake up."  She looked up at her husband owlishly.  She had fallen asleep at the table.  "Come on.  You need to be in bed."

"Uh uh.  Not without you," she said sleepily.

"I'll come.  I'm not leaving you."

Together, they left the conference room and walked down the narrow hallway toward his first floor room.  He slid the card key in the slot and opened the door.  Loralei slipped into the room first, and he started in after her.  He watched as his wife collapsed on the bed.  It was the last image he would see for an hour or more.  He heard the footsteps behind him a bit too late to react.  Something hard and unyielding smashed onto the nape of his neck, effectively knocking him out.

At the sound of her husband's body crumpling to the floor, Loralei came awake and watched as a dark figure stalked toward her.  She tried to scream, but a hand covered her mouth.  "_Esto es para su propio bueno_," a voice whispered in Spanish. ("This is for your own good.")    


	9. The Donovan Clan

CHAPTER 9—THE DONOVAN CLAN

Loralei's body was frozen as he forcefully began moving her toward the door.  Her terrified eyes were plastered on Donovan's body.  She couldn't even see his face, couldn't get one last look at him.  The arm holding onto her body and the hand covering her mouth tightened.  He would have to drag her out.  There was no way she was going to help her captor.  If he wanted her, he would have to work at it.  In the few days he had been watching the hotel, he had learned the layout and knew exactly where to take her to elude detection.  He dragged her to an employee area where they had their breaks and changed shifts.  He had watched long enough to know when there would be people back here, and when there would be none.  Keeping his hand over her mouth, he pushed her body against a row of employee lockers.  She watched, incredibly, as he opened one of the lockers and dug around one handed.  He pulled out duct tape and scissors.

"If I move my hand," he asked, "will you promise not to scream?  If you scream, you'll die.  Do you understand?"

Mutely, she nodded.  She didn't moan or plead or beg.  She held onto her wits as he slowly removed his hand.  Loralei didn't scream.  Instead, she tried to escape, but he took hold of her wrists in one hand and pushed her back.  He shook his head menacingly.  Quietly, he set about his work of binding her hands with the duct tape.  Even pregnant, she was a handful, and he had no intention of allowing her to get away.  After his job was done, he slapped a strip over her mouth.  He didn't trust her.  He set the tape and scissors aside and took hold of her bound hands and began dragging her toward the exit.  Loralei's eyes began wildly searching for someone, _anyone_, during the walk to his waiting car.  No one came.  She began to resist, jerking her body backward.  He stopped and turned toward her, realizing that this would not be easy.  He lifted her body and slung it over his shoulder, mindful of her swollen abdomen, and continued onward toward the car.  With great difficulty, he unlocked the door and placed her body inside.  He quickly went over to the drivers' side, opened the door, and slid inside.  Darkness was good cover, and he was certain no one had seen him.

Once they were on the road, he began to relax a little.  Without hesitation, he grabbed the very edge of the tape covering her mouth and ripped it off.  He was greeted with an indignant yell of pain and an amazing jet of spittle in his face.  Grimacing, he wiped his face with the sleeve of his shirt.  He should have left it on her, and he would probably regret the decision he made to take if off before they reached their destination.  She glared at him, and the ire evident in her eyes was incredibly brutal.  He did not doubt that if she weren't pregnant, she would attack him, and probably give him a run for his money.  The child she carried was her only thought, her only worry, and that would ensure her cooperation.  Nothing else had such power.

Loralei couldn't tear her eyes off the amazing Canadian sunrise sprouting on Farron's face.  The bruising was extensive, and appeared to be getting worse.  She noticed that he had somehow obtained a patch and had covered his injured eye with it.  It didn't matter, the swelling was still evident, and she wondered if he might lose it.  What was his purpose in abducting her?  What did he think he was doing?  Had he been running a game on them the entire time?  Had he _really_ wanted to give up the life?  The image of Donovan's crumpled body disturbed her.  Was he alive?  How could she get away without endangering the life of her unborn daughter?  She wanted to speak, but she was afraid that if she opened her mouth, she'd only end up screaming at him.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Farron said suddenly without tearing his eye off the road.  Driving without both eyes was a difficult feat at best, and he would have to concentrate doubly hard.  "Don't worry about Frank, he'll be fine."

"Why did you do this?  Are you going to give me up to your friends," she spat in anger.

He shook his head and chuckled sarcastically.  "Give me a little credit, okay?  I'm not bringing you to Ortiz as a prize.  I'm a _enrosque arriba _(screw up), but no killer.  I wouldn't give over my brother's pregnant wife to a bunch of _los vaqueros de la cocaína_ (cocaine cowboys).Your life is in danger, and you are not safe with Frank, with me, or alone in Chicago.  My former _jefe_ has dozens of men on his side, dozens of people who would be more than willing to track you down.  Where I'm taking you, no one would ever know to look, even Frank.  This is the only way you'll survive."

She didn't care what he said or what he did.  She didn't trust him, not after everything he had done to her husband and to her.  Yet, one burning question would not leave her.  "Where are you taking me?"

"Plant City.  Mine and Frank's sister, Anya, moved there with her family about a month ago.  You'll be safe with Anya until this is over.  Once we arrive, call Frank and tell him where you are.  Call him, but no one else.  Do you understand?"

*  *  *

They found Donovan passed out on the floor of his hotel room.  Together, Jake and Cody lifted his prone body and laid him on the bed.  It appeared that he had been hit from behind with a small fire extinguisher.  The team knew that once Donovan realized that his brother had escaped with his wife, he would fly off into some kind of homicidal rage.  Farron Donovan was as wily and as sneaky as his twin.  He had excused himself for no longer than five minutes, and when Cody went back to check on him, he was gone.  He had somehow climbed out of the small bathroom window.  Apparently, he had then gone to Loralei and Donovan.  Once the boss woke up and realized that his wife and brother were missing together, they would hastily prepare for hell on earth to arrive.

Donovan regained consciousness piece by piece, as if he were awaking from a deep coma.  Painful whiplash had claimed his neck and pulsed up to the back of his head.  It felt as if he had been smacked with a brick.  His confusion lasted for several moments as he blinked rapidly to clear his vision.  The room seemed dark somehow, but he wasn't sure if the lights were off, or if he couldn't see properly.  What happened?  Suddenly, a thought cut into his confusion as effectively as a knife through melted butter.  Loralei.  He tried to sit up, but the pain was immense, and his body fell back against the pillows.  Who the hell hit him?  Loralei.  Oh God.  He couldn't move.  He couldn't think.  The pain was much too intense.

A low, fevered moan brought Alex around.  She had been dozing in a chair and hadn't even realized it.  She glanced over at the bed and watched as Donovan tried to sit up, but his injured neck wouldn't allow it.  She approached the bedside and placed her hand on his clammy forehead.  She wondered how long he had been struggling to move.  "Hey," she said quietly, "Don't move.  It's only making it worse."

Donovan focused his eyes on Alex's face.  He didn't dare move his head.  Every little inch he moved created new agonies to explode within him.  "Where is Loralei," he demanded.  Even speaking caused pain to flair.  "Where is she?"  She didn't want to tell him, didn't want to say the words.  He lifted his arm quickly and took hold of her wrist.  Although he was overtaken by pain, his grip was still strong.  "_Where…is…she_," he demanded, emphasizing each word as if he were speaking to an insolent child.  

She sighed.  He wouldn't let up until she told him.  "Your brother escaped, and we're certain she's with him.  The rest of the crew is trying to track him down."

Donovan closed his eyes and gritted his teeth.  He released Alex's wrist and covered his eyes.  He was willing the pain to go away so he could function, so he could wrap his hands around Farron's throat and strangle him once and for all.  His drug trafficking brother had abducted his wife.  He then recalled that it been Farron's idea for him to redirect the flight back to Tampa.  _Stupid, stupid_, he thought.  Loralei had returned and Farron had taken his chance.  His wife would be delivered into the hands of bloodthirsty criminals.  He wanted to scream, cry, murder, and maim, but he could nothing.  The pain, the fucking pain.  He would will himself to move, will himself to get up.  Loralei needed him.

He pushed Alex's hovering body aside and sat up.  The pain exploded all over his head and his vision grayed out for a moment.  If Farron had taken Loralei, he had obviously hit him.  What the hell had he been thinking to listen to his brother?  Beside him, he heard Alex asking Donovan not to move, to lay back.  He ignored her.  She didn't understand.  Somebody had to do something before his wife and child were taken from him forever.  He swung his legs over the side of the bed, and another jolt of intense pain raged through him.  He needed a neck brace, but there was no time for that.  In the back of his mind, through the pain and the fog, he began to wonder where Farron could have taken her.  Cuba?  Colombia?  Bolivia?  How would he find her?  Goddamn it.  

"Find me painkillers," Donovan croaked.  "Painkillers, Alex.  I don't care where you get them, just get them."

*  *  *

Loralei wasn't sure that Farron intended to take her where he claimed.  So many questions swirled in her mind; they were questions that Farron would never answer.  If he had been concerned about protecting her and his brother, why would he knock out Donovan and leave him to his own devices?  Why would he sneak around to do it?  Why would he bind her so that she couldn't escape?  If he truly intended to help her, he would have gone about it a different way.  She wanted to talk to Farron, but at the same time, she didn't.  She didn't want to hear one smarmy word from his mouth.  Thoughts of escaping hadn't left her mind, but she wasn't sure how she could go about it without causing even more problems.  The motion of the car and her exhaustion slowly began to lull her to sleep.

She was jarred awake when the car halted.  She looked around at the dark, unfamiliar territory.  He had driven her to a small neighborhood scattered with houses and mobile homes.  The driveway he had pulled into connected to a modest looking home shadowed by a few palm trees.  Her eyes fell on a small black mailbox.  She could clearly see the name _Marcello_ etched into it.  Were they still in Florida or somewhere else?  When she glanced at the illuminated clock on the dashboard, she realized that only thirty or forty minutes had passed.  What the hell?  Farron ripped the tape off her wrists.  Caressing away the stinging pain, she looked up as light splashed over the driveway.  A figure of a young woman stood in the doorway.  She wasn't sure if she were looking at Donovan's sister or not.  She wouldn't know until the woman drew closer.  Each of his sisters had attended the wedding, and she would never forget what they looked like [they had the same eye and hair color and high cheekbones as their older brothers].  Only when she saw her would she be convinced that Farron hadn't double-crossed her.

The figure of the woman slowly approached the car.  As she drew closer, Loralei made out the long dark hair and prominent cheekbones.  This was definitely a Donovan sister.  Farron had been telling the truth all along.  As if reading her mind, he glanced at her from his good eye and gave her an 'I told you so' look.  Anya knew Farron was bringing Loralei.  He had called her earlier and discussed it with her.  Of course, he failed to mention that Frank would not know.  Anya barely glanced at Farron's battered face [he had told her about that, too].  Instead, she focused her concerned eyes on Loralei.

"I have little time to talk," Farron said to her.  "I must get back to Tampa."

Loralei didn't know how to feel for a moment.  So many emotions were attacking her at once, including relief.  Without a word to Farron [she actually couldn't vocalize], she opened the door and climbed out of the car.  Anya closed the door behind her, and took Loralei's forearm gently.  Still a little shocked, she didn't say anything as Anya led her up to the house.  No words came out of her mouth as her sister in-law led her into the living room.  Only after she was behind the closed door did Loralei react at all.  She began to cry deep, gut wrenching sobs.  She had been so frightened and so distressed for dozens of hours.  She had held it back as long as she could.  Anya took the crying woman in her embrace and walked her over to the sofa.

*  *  *

Donovan sat up on the side of the hotel bed and dry swallowed two large capsules that Alex had scrounged up for him.  He didn't bother asking what it was.  He didn't care.  It began to work fairly quickly, and he was able to move his neck a little bit.  He stood up and walked around the room for a moment to test his body out a little.  He would be no good if he couldn't walk.  

"Donovan, I don't think you're physically up to this," Alex said.  "Maybe you should go to the ER.  We can handle this."

He fixed his dark eyes stubbornly on her face.  "I can do anything I want.  I don't need your permission or that of a doctor.  My wife and our baby is involved, _I'll _handle it."

She threw up her hands.  "Okay."

The pain medication began to make him feel halfway normal.  The pain lingered, but not as severely as it did before.  A few more minutes, and he would be all right.  The bedside phone rang shrilly, cutting through the relief of the painkiller.  He immediately went to the phone [his vision graying again] and snatched it.  "Donovan," he spat through gritted teeth.  The pain wanted to claim him again.

"Frank?"

He closed his eyes tightly.  Loralei.  "Where are you?  Baby, are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Frank," she spat.  A sob was caught in her throat.  "What about you?  You were lying," she stopped speaking as the sob finally ripped out of her, "lying on the floor, Frank."

"Don't worry about me, I'm okay.  Where are you?  Where is Farron?"

"Farron is gone," she said, her voice calming down little by little.  "I'm with one of your sisters.  He didn't-didn't hurt me, but I thought-oh my god-I thought…"

"Don't.  I need you to stay calm.  Nothing is more harmful to you right now than fear.  You're safe where you are.  Again, my love, don't worry about me.  Promise me that you'll stay where you are until this is over."

"I will," she said.  "I love you, Frank.  Just come back to us, okay?"

"Yes," he said.  "I will.  I love you, too, Loralei."  He hung up without saying goodbye.  He couldn't say that word, not to her, not with her so upset.  The pain emanating from her voice was ten times worse than that attacking his neck and head.

Farron returned to the hotel and immediately went in search of his brother.  He hoped that Loralei had called him by now to let him know she was safe.  Expecting to eat a bullet, he marched up to the door and knocked.  Donovan opened the door and fixed his enraged eyes on his brother's battered face.  Without a word, without a sound, he grabbed Farron's shirt collar and slammed him against the wall.  Suddenly, the pain in Donovan's neck seemed nonexistent.

"_What were you thinking_," Donovan asked through a severe whisper.  "You attack me, you abduct my wife, and then you vanish.  Start talking while you can."

"If I had come to you, dear brother, and suggested that I take your wife where she would be safe, would you have agreed?  Would you have even listened to me?  Don't lie.  You wouldn't.  You would have beaten me senseless, and then asked questions later.  We both know this.  They're not looking for me.  They're looking for you now, and I was the only one who could do this.  Tell me, Frank, where else could she go?  Did you have any ideas?  With all your power, all that you can do, you had nowhere for her to go.  Did you?  Your stubbornness, your not wanting to listen to me, almost cost your wife her life."

The look on Farron's face was smug, almost vicious.  Donovan wanted to hit him again, to put out his other eye.  Instead of acting on his impulse, he released Farron's body and stepped away.  Was he afraid there was a little truth to Farron's words?  Guilt began to sink into his heart.  He turned away from Farron.  He couldn't look at him anymore.  Dear God.  He turned to look at Alex who had stepped over to the corner of the room.  "Put him in cuffs," he spat through clenched teeth, "lock him up in the conference room.  He doesn't move, he doesn't leave.  Get the rest of the team back here.  We have to regroup and find these drug trafficking fuckers."

*  *  *

Loralei awoke in a strange and dark room.  For a moment, she wasn't sure where she was.  The events of the last few hours seemed foggy, as if they happened a month ago.  She gasped aloud at the tiny face of her four-year-old niece peering into hers.  She sighed and sat up slowly.

"Sweetheart," Loralei said sleepily, "shouldn't you be in bed?"

"Wanted to see you," she said.  "You were crying."

She nodded.  "Yeah, Bianca, I miss your Uncle Frank."

"If you're scared, I could give you a hug," she offered.

Loralei smiled.  Dear Lord, she was about to start bawling again.  She lifted the child and drew her little body into her arms.  In response, she wrapped her arms around Loralei's neck.  The little girl drew away, but didn't immediately climb out of the bed.  She snuggled up against Loralei and curled her tiny fingers around a few strands of her hair.  Bianca was a beautiful little girl with her mother's dark hair and eyes.  Loralei wondered if her little girl would have the Donovan hair and eyes.

"Do you have a baby in your tummy," Bianca asked sleepily.

"Yes," she said, "I do."

"You'll be a nice mommy," she whispered, almost totally asleep now.

_Hormones be damned_, she thought as she blinked her tears away.  "I hope so."  


	10. Bullheaded Donovan

**CHAPTER 10—BULLHEADED DONOVAN**

Six people sat in the conference room, trying to decide what step needed to taken next.  Donovan was sitting at the table.  His neck and head were still killing him even after popping more painkillers.  His team was afraid that he might have gotten a cracked skull or something.  Whatever the case, they knew he needed medical attention, but he refused.  Every now and then, Donovan would try to focus his eyes on his brother's face.  Cody and Alex had cuffed Farron to a chair arm at the conference table.  Donovan was glad that he was seated at the opposite end, because he couldn't look at him yet.  This man of his own flesh and blood, who was a supreme fuck up, had actually made him feel guilty.  He had dragged his wife into this, and God help him, but Farron's words made sense.  If he had listened to him, if he had allowed him to speak, Loralei wouldn't have been in danger at all.  He grumbled incoherently under his breath.  Farron was still playing games, still trying to act the innocent victim in all this.  He had tried to take away from what he'd done and focus the blame on someone else.  It was Farron's way, even when the men were children.  Yes, Farron's move was noble, and he appreciated it greatly.  Yet, instead of taking the good deed to heart, Farron had acted smugly, as if his intention was only to best him.  The comments had hurt him greatly.  There was nothing Donovan feared more than failing his wife and child.  Tonight, Farron made him feel as if he had done exactly that.  If his head weren't swimming so severely, if his neck wasn't aching like a mother, he would get up close and personal with Farron again.

Donovan felt the pain spiraling up again, threatening to take him over.  _Goddamn, what did he do to me_, he thought.  His vision grayed suddenly and then corrected itself.  He had no time to be injured.  They had to intervene with the Ortiz gang and break them up.  There was also the matter of Mateo Luis to consider.  Donovan's foggy brain went back to the night he had taken five bullets for his brother.  Farron had turned state's evidence and received immunity.  He wasn't sure that his brother would be so lucky this time.  He wasn't even sure he _wanted_ his brother to be so lucky.  It was time for Farron to face the music once and for all.  He needed to pay for everything he had done.  _Uh, God_, he thought.  The pain was incredibly sickening.  Would it ever go away?  He couldn't think like this, couldn't work like this.

From the corner of the room, Alex looked up at Donovan.  Something didn't seem quite right.  His head was buried into his hands, and he seemed unable to move.  She cursed his stubbornness.  He needed to go to the hospital, but he wouldn't.  He hadn't even told his wife he was injured.  She couldn't understand how Loralei handled his bullheaded inflexibility.  Of course, Loralei had a bit of that in herself as well.  _Perhaps that's how she deals with it_, Alex thought.  Concerned now, she stood and walked over to the boss.  He hadn't moved for several minutes.  

Alex stepped up to Donovan.  "Boss?  Are you okay?"  She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, and Donovan's body slid out of the chair and suddenly dropped to the floor.  "_Shit_," Alex cried.  "Get over here, something is wrong!"  

It didn't take long for Donovan to come around, but his head continued to swim sickly.  Farron had tried to assist his fallen brother, but he had forgotten momentarily that he was cuffed to the chair.  Donovan blinked his eyes stupidly and glanced around the room.  It seemed as if a sea of faces surrounded him.  He could hardly breathe.  

"That does it, Donovan, you're going to the ER," Jake spat.

He groaned and tried to shake his head, but movement was impossible.  His neck was growing stiffer by the second.  "No.  No ER.  I'm fine," he insisted.

"Fine my ass," Cody said.  "People who are fine don't take swan dives out of their chairs, Boss."

"Move back and give him some air," Alex said.

Stubbornly, Donovan spat, "Just help me up, and I'll be fine.  It's the whiplash, nothing more."

"Donovan, whiplash doesn't make you pass out.  There's something else going on, maybe a concussion.  You need medical attention, and it's only going to worsen if you don't do something."

He tried to focus his eyes on Alex's face, but it was difficult.  Suddenly, his eyeballs felt hot and swollen.  "No ER," he said.  "I won't have it.  Help me up."

"You need assistance to stand, for crying out loud," Monica spat.  "And you're _fine_?"

"Very well," he spat through clenched teeth.  "I'll do it."  

Donovan sat up on his own, without assistance, to show them just how fine he was.  It was a mistake, of course, because the pain in his neck began to scream bloody murder at him.  He had ruined his hand on Farron's face.  His brother should have been the one who needed the ER after what he had done to him.  Yet, all it had taken to cold cock him was a fire extinguisher to the nape of the neck.  _Dirty fighter.  Dirty, dirty fighter.  Sucker punched me.  _Grabbing the leg of one of the chairs, he slowly pulled his body up to his feet.  The pain in his neck rocked him again, and he placed a steadying hand on the back of the chair.  His vision grayed yet again, and he thought he was going to pitch forward onto the table.  He fixed his eyes on Farron's face.  His twin was watching him curiously, with great concern.  _Fucker did this to me_.  

"Why, Farron?  Why do you continue to do this to me?  Why hurt me over and over again," he asked suddenly, viciously.  "I am no good to this team, to my wife, like this.  You do a good deed, presumably from the heart, only to rub my face in it.  I will not allow you to incapacitate me.  Do you understand?  I will not allow it to happen again."   

"Listen to your team.  Listen to _someone_.  You've never listened to me," Farron shot back.  "I offer help, and you deny it.  Of course, I'm going to be smug, because I was right, and you were wrong.  It's simple.  Even in your condition, you should understand that."

"When this is over, when I know that my wife and daughter are safe and sound, I'm going to kill you; maybe not physically, but symbolically.  There was never a Farron Donovan, only a Mateo Luis.  Farron Donovan does not exist to me right now.  He never will again.  I will turn you over to the DEA, CIA, and fucking FBI, and let them have you for the rest of your life.  Maybe then, I can finally have a normal existence without the pain of living with your betrayal.  When we were younger, this shit only affected me, but now, I have two other people to think about.  You have embroiled Loralei and our child into your sewer of deceit and lies.  If you haven't figured it out by now, she means everything to me.  I have broken many promises due to your misdeeds, and I hate you for it."

The immense pain drove him back and away from Farron.  He honestly didn't know how long he could hold out.  Dizzy now, he took careful steps over to the middle of the room and approached one of the plushy chairs.  He sank gratefully into its comfort and tried to lean his head back.  The pain wouldn't let him.  He sat forward, to keep his neck from making contact with the chair.  During his tirade, he had totally forgotten about the team.  They stood gape mouthed and incredulous.  "Set up the meeting with Dominguez, Jake," Donovan said, his voice seemingly coming from his far, far away place.  "We have to get to Ortiz.  If we have him, the whole operation will fall."  Without warning, Donovan fell face first onto the floor.

"Goddamn it," Jake spat.  "Come on, Cody, let's take him to his room."

"Whatever you do," Monica said, "Don't let him go to sleep."

Together, Cody and Jake lifted Donovan's body off the floor and supported his weight between them.  He was coming around again, slowly.  He was mumbling what sounded like curses and refusals to go to the hospital.  Alex stood watch until the three men were out of sight.  Donovan would not willingly go to the hospital.  She was thinking of doing something that would mean completely crossing the line, going out of bounds.  She wasn't sure the boss would ever forgive her, but she couldn't help it.  The only person who could get through to him was Loralei.  Farron was the key to finding her, and she would get the contact information from him even if it meant another beating from _her_.

Slowly, she approached Donovan's twin brother and sat in the chair nearest him.  He looked at her with little interest.  He didn't trust _federales_, even pretty ones.  "You see the condition he's in, don't you?  He has to see a doctor or he'll never make it through this.  We need him on our team to help close this case.  The key to that is his wife.  She is the only person he will listen to.  On any other day, for any other situation, I wouldn't even _think_ of trying to nose into Donovan's personal life, but this is the exception to the rule.  Tell me how to contact Loralei.  If she can talk to him, he just might get the medical attention he needs."

He shook his head.  "Ah, you're asking for yet another betrayal.  I don't know you. Agent Cross, is it?  How do I know you're not one of Ortiz's drug addicts?  Does Frank really need another reason to hate me?"

"_Listen to me_," she spat emphatically.  "If you love your brother, you'll give me that number.  Loralei needs to know that he's injured and refusing medical attention.  He won't go without her push.  He's too stubborn to listen to us, and he certainly won't listen to you."

*  *  *

Anya Donovan Marcello crept into the guest bedroom that she had fixed up for Loralei.  Her daughter was snuggled against Loralei and the two of them were deeply asleep.  She pulled Bianca from Loralei's arms and quietly carried her to her room.  She came back to Loralei and leaned over her.  She shook Loralei gently, whispering her name at the same time.  Loralei came awake slowly, cautiously.  When she had drifted off, Anya's little one was curled up next to her.  She began searching for the little girl.

"I took her back to her bed," Anya said.  "You have a phone call."

She sat up and scrubbed the sleep out of her eyes.  "A phone call?  Is it Frank?"

Anya shook her head.  "No.  It's someone named Alex."

Loralei nodded solemnly, expecting the worse, as she climbed out of bed and shrugged into a robe Anya had let her borrow.  She followed her sister in-law into the kitchen where the phone lay dangling by its cord.  She picked it up and held it to her ear.  What had happened now?  "Alex?  What is it?"

"Loralei, your husband is going to kill me once he finds out I did this, but he lied to you earlier.  He's hurt, and from the looks of it, he probably has a concussion.  We have all tried to get him to the ER, but he won't go.  Right now, you're our last hope."

Her stubborn, stubborn husband.  Concerned now, she asked, "Can you get him to the phone?"

"I'll try to transfer the call to his room.  Jake and Cody are in with him now, keeping him awake."

*  *  *

The phone rang, and Cody nearly jumped right out of his skin.  "Damn, why are hotel phones so loud."  He grabbed the receiver.  "Donovan's room.  Hello?"

"Cody, it's Loralei.  How is Frank?"

He glanced at the boss and noticed that he was at least conscious.  "He's lucid, but not good."

"Give him the phone."

_He's in trouble now_, Cody thought.  He passed the phone to Donovan.  "I think you'll want to take this call."

Confused, Donovan looked up at Cody.  Who would be calling at this ungodly hour during his tremendous headache?  "Donovan.  What is it?"

She could hear the pain in his voice.  It was obvious.  She was glad Cody hadn't told him who it was.  If he had, Donovan would have put on his stubborn hat and worn it proudly.  "It's me, baby."

His eyebrows drew together, and his forehead wrinkled.  It was the look that Donovan typically displayed when stressed or pissed or both.  "Loralei?  What are you doing?"

"You're hurt.  Don't tell me you're not.  I can hear it in your voice.  I should have known that you were when I spoke to you earlier.  Let them take you to the ER, Frank, you need help."

"No," he spat, "I'm fine.  I told you.  No ER."

"Frank, please.  Go to the hospital.  Stop being so damn stubborn and do it."

"No.  Get off the phone, Loralei, it's not safe."

"No," she spat just as stubbornly.  "I'm not hanging up.  In fact, if you don't go, I'll drive back right now and take you myself."

Suddenly, the pain in his head shifted to his heart.  "You would, wouldn't you?  You're not to leave there, for any reason, even for me.  Do you understand?"

"Yes, clearly, but you went into gung ho protective mode, and didn't exactly tell me the truth, Frank.  You said you weren't hurt, but you are.  Goddamn it, baby, go to the hospital.  If you don't, I'll be out the door and there in an hour.  I swear to God, Frank, I'll do it."

He closed his eyes tightly against the pain attacking his entire body.  "I'll go," he said grudgingly.  "Get off the phone, Loralei."

"Take care of yourself, Frank," she said shakily.  "If you don't want to do it for you, do it for us.  I want our little girl to know her father.  If you keep up this stubborn shit, she might not.  And I can't live with that thought."

He tried to shake his head, but his neck wouldn't allow it.  "Neither can I, Loralei.  I'll go, I told you.  I just want you off the phone.  I don't know who might be listening."  

"Don't think I won't find out if you don't go.  I love you."

He wanted to return the sentiment, but she hung up the phone before he could.  Goddamn.  He wanted this shit to be over.  He wanted to be able to relax, to see his wife steadily, to sleep with her, to hold her in his arms.  Goddamn.  Goddamn.  Donovan replaced the phone and focused his tired eyes on Jake and Cody.  "_Take…me…to…the…fucking…hospital_," he spat emphatically through clenched teeth.  This was one delay he did not need.  Cody and Jake walked with Donovan to the conference room to announce that they were taking him to the ER.  

Before Donovan stepped one foot further, he looked at every person in the room, including Farron.  "Who called her?  She wouldn't have known if someone hadn't called.  Jake and Cody were with me.  Farron is cuffed and can't move.  That leaves only two people," he said as he focused his eyes on Monica and Alex.  "And one of you would have had to get the number from my brother.  Which of you did this?"

"Fuck it, Donovan, I don't care to admit it.  _I_ got the number from your brother, and _I _called her.  She's the only person who you'll listen to.  She's the only person who seems to be able to get through to you.  You said it yourself.  You're no good to her, or to us like this.  If you want to bitch me out, go for it, but I'm not going to apologize for calling her.  She's your wife, Frank, she had the right to know."

"Come on people, we don't have time to argue," Cody said suddenly.  "If he decides to take another not-so-graceful swan dive, I don't want him falling on _me_."

"Jake, you stay here," Donovan said, "you have work to do, and I don't want to risk your cover getting blown.  Monica can help."

"You sure," Jake asked.  

"Yes.  This game isn't over, and won't be for a long time to come."

*  *  *

Alex, Jake, and Farron remained in the conference room waiting to hear word on Donovan.  Farron impatiently tugged at the cuff.  Another thought entered his mind, and it was quite disturbing.  "Release me," he said suddenly.

Jake glanced at Farron and gave him an incredulous look.  "_Release you_?  I don't think so, man.  I don't want the boss to do to me what he did to you."

Farron shook his head.  The swelling had finally begun to go down in his eye, and he thought he might be able to take the patch off in a few hours.  "You don't understand.  I know these men; I worked with them for years.  They're too smart for you.  Have you given one thought to the possibility that my former _hermanos_ might have followed them to the hospital?  Have you thought that someone may attack him while he recovers?  You must release me so I can help.  Who better to catch them than Mateo Luis?"

Jake's incredulous gaze never wavered.  "If you actually listen to this guy, he makes sense," he said sarcastically.  "Stop running your game.  I've seen this a thousand times.  We release you, you run back to your gang, and our whole operation is blown to bits."

He laughed bitterly.  "I brought Frank's _el pedazo permanente_ (permanent piece) back to him.  Why would I bother if I only wanted to run back?  Frank has poisoned your minds against me.  I was right about his wife, and I'm right about this.  Your refusal will lead to his death."

"For someone who craves credibility, you surely know how to fuck it up by disrespecting your sister in-law," Jake challenged.  "_Cierre el labio, o yo lo haré para usted_."  ("Zip your lip, or I'll do it for you.")

"_Los tipos duros_," (tough guys), "how you all sicken me.  Without your guns, you're nothing."

*  *  *

Donovan was admitted into the hospital a couple of hours later.  The hospital personnel were very worried about the head injury and blackout spells.  There was a serious possibility of some type of skull fracture or brain injury.  Donovan was sent for an immediate CAT scan, and he lay impatiently in bed awaiting the results.  Cody couldn't keep his hands off the hospital equipment and Monica was busily trying to keep him away from it as if he were a wayward child.  Donovan knew they were trying to keep him awake.  Head injuries and too much sleep did not mix.  He wanted out of the hospital, and he was more than pissed at Alex for calling his wife.  There was nothing wrong with him, nothing that getting this case closed wouldn't fix.

*  *  *

Rosa Perez was a candy striper with aspirations to become a nurse.  However, Ms. Perez also had a nice little monkey wrapped tightly around her neck.  Her boyfriend ran with cocaine traffickers, and he often brought home samples that they would share.  She wouldn't admit it, but she had quite the habit developing.  Her boyfriend ran with Pablo Dominguez and his cronies.  She saw the tall man with the short black hair as he was taken to triage.  It was Mateo.  He had cut his hair off and trimmed down his beard to a neat goatee, but she had no trouble recognizing him.  She wondered why he didn't recognize her.  She tapped her chin thoughtfully.  She had no idea that Mateo was Pablo's target, but that night when she met her boyfriend, she mentioned seeing Mateo.  The poor man looked quite ill.  

*  *  *

"_Las noticias buenas_," ("Good news.") Ortiz said into the phone.  He glanced over at Dominguez.  "_Usted sabe lo que hacer_."  ("You know what to do.")

*  *  *

Donovan was relieved with his CAT scan came back clear.  He had basically just sustained a bad knock on the head, and would recover without any complications.  They wanted to keep him in the hospital for a couple of days to watch him, and he grudgingly agreed.  He had no intention of not honoring his promise to Loralei.  He would not have her coming back.  Later that night, he fell asleep without few cares.  He didn't notice the looming figure in the hallway.  He wasn't an imposing figure, or even a suspicious one.  He was wearing hospital scrubs and looked like any typical hospital employee, but he was not.  Pablo Dominguez smiled.  _El tiempo para devuelve_.  (Time for payback).


	11. La Pandilla de Ortiz

**CHAPTER 11—LA PANDILLA DE ORTIZ (THE ORTIZ GANG)**

Donovan had drifted away in a peaceful slumber.  In his dreams, of course, were images of Loralei.  He missed her so much that she invaded his every thought.  He was in the very first stages of sleep, that first stage where dreams begin, but not quite to the stage where the sleeper is completely unaware of the world around him.  In that state, he heard the soft _swish_ as the door to his room closed.  For a moment, he ignored it.  He thought it was probably a part of his dream.  He distinctly remembered that Cody and Monica had left the door open.  Whatever.  He simply didn't care at the moment.  He wanted to sleep, to rest.  Once he was fully recovered, this crazy case would end and his life would get back to a slight semblance of normality.  As he fell deeper into the stages of sleep, another image invaded his dream.  In his mind, he saw the baby.  He saw a beautiful infant who possessed the amber fire of Loralei's hair and the green of her eyes.  It was a nice image, a welcoming image.  He hadn't experienced many dreams such as this, and when they came to him, he was always pleased.  From his deeper sleep state, he could hear the clacking of hard soled shoes coming toward his bed.  Strange.  Didn't all hospital personnel wear shoes with rubber soles?  Wasn't it something to do with reducing tired feet?  Perhaps it wasn't hospital personnel at all.  Maybe someone else had come to look in on him.  It wasn't his wife.  The steps were heavier, not from a woman at all, but from a man.  Cody?  Jake?  Surely not.  He had left orders for them to return to the hotel to resume their hunt for the Ortiz gang.  Again, he found himself not really caring at all.  The images of his daughter were too pleasant to leave behind.

*  *  *

Cody, Monica, Alex, and Farron turned toward the sliding doors of the conference room.  It was almost dawn.  Jake sauntered into the room a bit upset.  Of course, the team knew what had happened.  They were monitoring the entire thing.  Jake was to have met Dominguez that night to discuss the elimination plan of Mateo Luis.  Jake's alter ego was to be the gunman.  The meeting had somehow fallen through.  One of the gang had mentioned that Dominguez had gone on a special mission.  It didn't dawn on any of them that his special mission involved Mateo.  Dominguez had no intention of allowing a new guy to take out a man he had hunted for weeks.  It was _his_ mission and his alone.  Once Mateo was tortured and dead, he would go after his woman.

"Don't you think it might be a good idea to check on Frank," Farron asked suddenly.  "What was Pablo's pressing issue tonight?  Do you know?"

Jake fixed a stony gaze on Donovan's brother.  "How would he know?  How would he know where to find Donovan?"  

Farron chuckled bitterly.  "You _federales_ are so smart, you're stupid.  Haven't I told you?  Both Ortiz and Dominguez have connections.  It doesn't matter.  I'll bet that they even have connections in the church.  Either let go of your ego and call the hospital, or release me and I'll go myself."

"For God's sake," Jake said.  "Let's humor this fuck before I lose my temper."

*  *  *

"_Despiértese, Mateo.  Despiértese y mireme_."  ("Wake up, Mateo.  Wake up and look at me.")

_Mateo_, Donovan thought from his dream world.  _Am I dreaming again?  Am I so obsessed with closing this case that I'm hearing the name even while I sleep_?  

"_Despiértese.  Quiero que usted vea mi cara antes yo lo mato_."  ("Wake up.  I want you to see my face before I kill you.")

_This is no dream_, he thought.  Donovan opened his eyes just in time to see a knife arcing toward him.  His hand flew out and caught hold of the man's wrist.  Pablo Dominguez.  _How many days have we been searching for you?  How many hours have I worried that you would harm my wife and our baby?  How many fucking tears has Loralei shed over this hell?_  Despite his injured hand and head, he held onto the crazed man's wrist tightly, gaining ground, pushing him away.  The quiet way Mateo fought back disturbed Dominguez a little.  Normally, Mateo yelled or cursed loudly while faced with an aggressor.  In the weeks he had run, something about his former _hermano _had changed, and he wasn't sure he liked it.  Mateo was somehow stronger and more persistent.  The two men locked eyes.  Dominguez saw the hatred in Mateo's eyes, and that was the only thing that seemed right.  _Demasiado raro_.  (Too weird)  

"_Tu tiene al hombre injusto, tu idiota_," Donovan growled.  ("You have the wrong man, you idiot.")

"_El hombre injusto?  Eso es un nuevo uno_."  ("The wrong man?  That's a new one.")

"_Jódalo_!"  ("Fuck you!")

"_Sí.  Jódame.  Yo lo joderé arriba_."  ("Yes.  Fuck me.  I will fuck you up.")

Donovan's hand, already weakened and injured, slowly began to lose its grip on Dominguez's wrist.  He tried to find purchase, but it was difficult.  If he slipped, the glittering blade would enter his body to the hilt.  He wasn't afraid to die, he never had been.  He was more afraid of breaking his promise to Loralei.  He vowed to return to her, and he would, regardless of what he had to do.  Donovan jerked his body upward, as if he intended to sit up and hug the other man.  If he could get his other arm up, his other good hand, he might just make it.  As he began the difficult task of raising his good hand while trying to hold Dominguez with his bad hand, his grip slipped.  Horrified, Donovan jerked his body to the side and felt an amazing pain springing up in his body.  It bit and burned him, staggering his senses, making his head swim, not just from a concussion, but torturous pain.  He hadn't had many knife wounds, but those he received were usually his most memorable injuries.  What made it worse was that the knife dug into muscle, causing agony like he had never experienced before.  Donovan rolled viciously to the right as Dominguez drew the knife into another severe arc.  It buried itself into the thin mattress.  He rolled to the left as the knife arced down again.  No skin this time, either, only foam and cotton.  The other man lifted the knife high, and Donovan wasn't sure what else he could do other than throwing his body to the floor.  The gaping wound and blood loss had slowed down his reflexes.  He was done.  It was over.  The knife came down again, aiming straight for his chest, and Donovan prepared to either move or die or both.  Before fate stepped in and intervened in his life forever, the gloriously wonderful sound of semi-automatic gunfire filled the room, contaminating its sterile whiteness with gun smoke.  Before blackness took him briefly, Donovan wanted to see the person who saved his life.  It had to be one the team.  However, his shocked eyes fell on someone else, someone not even _close _to the team.  His brother, his cowardly yellow dog brother, held the weapon in his hand.  His bruised face was drawn into a snarl, and he couldn't tear his eyes away from the fallen man.  _Farron_, he thought.  _Oh God_.  Donovan's world went black.   

*  *  *

The sun began to peek into the room, and Loralei was totally exhausted.  She hadn't slept well the night before.  She sat up slowly, but ended up falling back against the pillows.  She didn't seem to want to get out of bed.  _You're depressed_, she thought.  Could be.  She was also worried about Donovan.  She hadn't heard a word about her husband since she had brow beaten him to go to the hospital.  She forced herself to sit up again.  What the hell was going on inside her body?  She hadn't felt this yucky since her first few weeks of pregnancy.  She swung her legs over the side of the bed and was overcome by a wave of dizziness.  She had felt this way for a couple of days, but decided it had to be due to the added stress of her life.  Shaking her head, she grabbed the robe at the foot of the bed and shrugged into it.  Against her better judgment, she crept slowly into the kitchen.  No one else in the house was up yet, so her deed would remain unnoticed for now.  She dialed Donovan's hotel room, but there was no answer.  She didn't leave a message when asked.  She hung up the phone and stood still for a moment.  She felt bad, she felt really bad.  What made the feeling worse was the realization that in a few weeks, she would enter her sixth month of pregnancy.  Her husband should have been here for this, should be with her during this time.  She missed him, but there was nothing she could do about it right now.  She padded back into the bedroom and closed the door behind her.  Sleep.  Yes, she would go back to sleep.  She felt quite rotten.

*  *  *

Donovan regained consciousness very briefly before he was whisked away for emergency surgery.  He grabbed weakly at Jake's shirt and dragged him forward.  "Find them all," he said foggily.  "Find them."

There seemed to be blood all over him, blood everywhere.  Jesus.  "We will, Boss, it's okay."

"Loralei doesn't know this.  Do not call her.  Don't do it."  Donovan could see the look in Jake's eyes.  He wasn't comfortable with this, not at all.  He grasped Jake's shirt as tightly as possible and pulled him downward.  Donovan's gaze burned into him.  "_She cannot know, Agent Shaw, do you understand_," he spat vehemently.  "She is still not safe.  She won't be safe here until they're brought down, until they're _all_ brought down.  _Promise me_.  Promise that you won't call and that you won't let anyone else call."

"Donovan, she needs-"

"No," he spat.  "Her only need is to be safe.  I won't let them wheel me in until I have your word."

Donovan's grip was getting weaker by the second.  If he didn't go into surgery, Jake was afraid he might die.  Figuring he would regret this decision for the rest of his life, he sighed and nodded, "Okay, Boss, you win.  You have my word.  I won't let anyone tell her."

Cody, Monica, Jake, Alex, and Farron kept watch in the waiting room.  They had had a few updates.  It appeared that the knife hadn't sliced through any internal organs, which would have made a bad situation worse.  

"You _are_ calling Loralei.  Right?"

Jake fixed his dark eyes on Alex's face.  He crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head.  "No.  I told him I wouldn't, and I won't."

"Do you think that's such a great idea?"

"Yes," Farron said suddenly.  "We will tell his wife whatever he asks.  One is down, but there are others.  If she returned, she would be abducted before she could even arrive here.  When the gang hears of Pablo's death, they won't be pleased.  I'm no _federale_, but I want to help, and I'm asking for your trust."

"Why should we trust you," Jake asked suddenly.

"Why should you not," Farron challenged.  "The thing is, I know these men, and you don't.  I'm a drug trafficker, yes, but I'm your only link to the heart of the gang.  Without me, you'll be floundering before you know it.  Frank will be dead, Loralei widowed, and their child fatherless.  Either you accept the offer or you don't.  I won't ask twice."

The team left Farron sitting.  This was something they needed to discuss amongst themselves.  

"What else do we have," Alex asked, resigned.  "He's been right before, and I sincerely doubt he's running a game.  Look what he did to Dominguez.  He shot the man before he could kill his brother.  What else do we have to lose?"

Jake shook his head.  "I can't believe this shit.  Listen to you.  He's a sleaze, Alex.  Look at everything he's done."

"I'm with Alex," Cody said suddenly.  "Go with Double Vision until the boss is back on his feet.  At this time, we have no one else."

"What about you," Jake asked, focusing his dark eyes on Monica's face.  "Have you lost your mind, too?  Are you with them?"

She nodded.  "I am, Jake.  We don't have anywhere to turn right now."

He laughed bitterly.  "Great.  I'm going to have to watch my back twenty-four hours now."

*  *  *

A pair of hands began to shake her.  She wasn't sure who it was, but it was annoying all the same.  She wanted to sleep; she didn't want to do anything other than that.  For a moment, she had begun to think it was Donovan trying to rouse her as he always did in the morning.  Loralei moaned incoherently, and mumbled nothing more than gibberish that ended with 'Frank.'  The hands were persistent.  Definitely Donovan.  She opened her eyes when she realized that he wasn't going to leave her alone.  However, the face she saw wasn't that of her husband.  It was Anya.  She sighed deeply; she had totally forgotten where she was.

"What is it," Loralei asked sleepily.

"You've been sleeping for hours," she said, her concerned eyes [_Frank's eyes_] focused on her face.  "I was starting to worry.  Are you okay?"

"Oh yes," she said, "I'm okay.  I'm just so tired.  I haven't been this tired since I first became pregnant."

Anya took note of her paleness.  She didn't appear to be fine at all.  "You're due in a little more than three months, right?"  Loralei nodded.  In this stage of her pregnancy, she should have been feeling good, not bad.  "Maybe you should see a doctor."

"No, really, I don't think it's necessary.  I'm upset and depressed.  I don't know what's happening with Frank, and I haven't heard from or about him in a while.  He's in the hospital, and I'm not sure what's going on."  She felt fresh tears welling in her eyes.  Goddamn.  When would this hormonal thing go away?  "I miss him."

Anya nodded.  She didn't know how Loralei handled having her husband in such a dangerous line of work.  How did she cope?  Frank was her brother, and she often found that she was beside herself with worry.  What must this do to his wife?  She smoothed a few tendrils of hair from Loralei's forehead.  "Dear sister in-law, I totally understand.  But I must insist you see a doctor soon.  You know Frank.  If he finds out his pregnant wife is ill and didn't see a doctor, he'll go through the roof."

She smiled a little.  "That's putting it mildly."

"Will you go if I call my doctor and make an appointment," she asked.

"Yeah.  God knows Frank doesn't need anything else to worry about."

*  *  *

Much, much later, Donovan was reclining in bed.  Actually, _reclining_ wasn't even close.  He was more or less cringing.  The pain from the knife wound was enormous, despite the stitching.  It completely overshadowed that in his head.  He felt quite lucky that none of his internal organs had been injured.  He wasn't thrilled when he heard his recovery would take several weeks, and he would have to spend some of that time in the hospital.  However, for the moment, he was alive.  He noticed that outside his room, a cop or a guard had been stationed.  It was almost funny.  If he weren't in such pain, he might have laughed.  The nurse had offered him morphine, but he refused.  His mind needed to stay sharp and focused.  He gazed at the telephone beside him.  Donovan wasn't sure how long it had been since he last spoke to Loralei.  Calling her was risky business, but for all purposes, Dominguez had completed his mission.  Ortiz probably hadn't been notified yet.  Of course, unbeknownst to Donovan, the candy striper who mentioned Mateo to her boyfriend hadn't been working when Farron gunned down Dominguez.  If she had, another assassin would have been summoned within moments.

*  *  *

"Bianca," Anya whispered shaking her head.  Her little girl was curled up against Loralei again.  She was completely fascinated with her aunt.

"You can leave her," Loralei whispered.  "She keeps me company and gives great hugs."

Anya sighed and shook her head again.  Loralei hadn't exactly gotten great news at the doctor earlier this evening, and she had been crying off and on for hours.  Hopefully what she had come to tell her would help.  "Frank is on the phone."

She exhaled a deep breath.  "Thank God.  I'm about half out of my mind right now."  She climbed out of bed, mindful of her niece, and put on a robe.  She approached the phone, her heart beating hard.  _I will not cry.  I will not cry_.  She picked up the receiver, and said, "Baby?"

He closed his eyes and bit down on his bottom lip.  The pain was evident in her voice, but she was fighting hard not to let it show.  He loved her so much for her strength, he thought _he_ might cry.  "I'm calling to let you know I'm all right.  It was just a concussion, nothing more."  _You have effectively skipped the knife injury, you big liar_.

Somehow, some way, she didn't quite believe that.  His voice seemed pained.  He was no more than thirty miles from her, but it felt as if he were an ocean away.  "Frank, why do I feel like you're hiding something from me?"

Even over the damn phone, she could read him.  "I'm hiding nothing.  There was a slight complication in the case, and I'm not sure how long this will take.  I hope that soon, you can go back to Chicago, and we'll be together again."

"Frank," she said shakily.  Her impending tears were fighting against her desperately, and they would probably win the battle.  "I have to tell you something."

"Loralei, what's wrong?"  He wasn't aware that he was gripping the phone so tightly that his knuckles were growing white.

"I went to the doctor today at your sister's insistence," she began, "there have been some problems."

Donovan felt the rush of adrenaline entering his body, trying to blank out the pain.  "Problems?  Goddamn it, you _need _me, and I can't…"

"No," she said softly, "wait.  Don't beat yourself up.  It's not life threatening, and the baby is fine.  It's some type of weird anemia.  I'm not sure; I don't remember all the medical jargon.  It's making me really tired, but I'll be fine.  I wanted you to know."

He gave up.  He allowed his own unshed tears to slide slowly down his cheeks.  "Until I return to you, I want you to stay with my sister.  I know she'll take care of you.  I want to come to you so badly, I can't stand it."

"No, Frank, it's okay.  I understand.  I-I just miss you."

He didn't want to hang up, but he knew he must.  The longer he kept her on the phone, the easier it would be to track her down.  He was growing increasingly paranoid as each day passed.  "I miss you, too, more than you know.  I have to hang up now.  I'll call as much as I can."  He felt horribly for misleading her, for basically lying to her, but he had to protect her at all costs.  "With all of my heart, Loralei, I love you."          

"I love you, too, baby.  Go-"

"No," he spat, interrupting her.  "I don't want to hear you say that.  Why don't we just fade out and hang up?  Don't you think that's better?"

_Uh God, this is killing me_, she thought.  "Yes.  Lots."

He drew the phone away from his ear and hung up while he still had the courage to do it.

*  *  *

Jesus Ortiz glared at his new _compadre_, Miguel.  The young trafficker was quite upset that he had sent Dominguez to take out Mateo instead of him.  The indignant young fellow had been itching to help exact revenge.  Ortiz liked Miguel.  He had spirit.  He was considering putting him in Mateo's place beside his soul _hermano_, Pablo.  Mateo Luis was dead.  Finally.  It was time to get back to business.  An amazing shipment of pure cocaine was expected in a day or two, and it would bring in millions of dollars.  Miguel jumped at the chance to run the drugs for him.  Yes.  Miguel would work out nicely.  


	12. Reunions & Reluctant Reconciliations

CHAPTER 12—REUNIONS & RELUCTANT RECONCILIATIONS

Donovan fell into a fitful sleep.  The knife wound throbbed sickly, and almost made it impossible to sleep.  However, he needed sleep.  There was no way he would heal without rest.  He intended to do whatever was necessary to get out of here as soon as possible.  He didn't want to be separated from Loralei any longer than necessary, especially with her being ill.  Her due date drew nearer, seemingly by the hour.  Extreme guilt attacked his heart, and he wondered if he would even be there when his daughter was born.  _Don't even think that way_.  When Loralei discovered that he had lied to her about the stabbing, she would probably kill him.  Honestly, he deserved it.  While he slept, a lone figure entered his room and took a seat in one of the visitor's chairs near the bed.

*  *  *

Jesus Ortiz was nervous.  His shipment was due at any time.  He hadn't heard anything from Dominguez.  Where was his man when he needed him?  The coke couldn't be moved without his best trafficker.  Miguel was relatively new, and he wasn't sure how well he could handle such a large shipment.  Of course, they would warehouse the largest portion of it, and then send a little out at a time.  Ortiz paced crazily as he waited and waited.  Miguel and his _mujer_ (woman) would arrive soon.  Ortiz hadn't wanted his new _hermano _to bring the woman along, but Miguel insisted that she was _confiable_ (trustworthy).  Besides, he had seen her shoot.  She was almost as good as a man.  Almost.  Where the fuck was his _hermano_?

*  *  *

Meanwhile, Farron sat down with the UC team and gave them every tidbit of information they would need to keep Ortiz's attention off Dominguez and on to something else.  Farron knew the psychology of Jesus Ortiz.  He would worry about his _hermano_ for a while, but then his attention would easily become drawn away as soon as the shipment came in.  He gave the agents the location of Ortiz's secret warehouses where he typically stored every drug that came to him.  He told them that his former _jefe_ was a greedy fuck, and he would only let a bit of the coke out of his grasp for petty dealers until he found a heavy hitter.  Of course, since the coke was fairly pure _la mierda del partido_ (party shit), it would move fast.  Ortiz would probably score multi-millions from just one shipment.  If the gang were to be stopped at all, tonight would be the night to move in on them.  They would face huge problems if Ortiz discovered that Dominguez had been taken out.    

*  *  *

Jake and Alex pulled up to the abandoned shipyard where Ortiz's men waited to unload the coke that was due to arrive at any time.  In order to save their hides, they arrived not strapped for sound.  Their only communication with Monica and Cody was through the bug Cody had jerry-rigged in the SUV.  He had also installed an amazingly small camera somewhere in the interior [he had refused to tell them where, but he assured them that no one would ever find it] that would record what it could.  Jake had instructed Cody to call in the troops no more than one hour after the shipment arrived.  Although he wouldn't admit it, he was a little tense and worried.  There would definitely be gun action tonight, and he hoped that both he and Alex could get out alive.  They had been very lucky thus far.  He wished he could say the same for Donovan.  It seemed as if every time the man turned around, he was hurt or maimed in some way.  ****

Taking deep breaths and steeling themselves, Alex and Jake left the comfort and safety of the SUV and began their slow approach to the hideout.  They only needed just a couple of hours to do this job, and it would finally be over.

Ortiz glanced over in the direction of the man and woman.  He approached them with a warm smile.  "_Miguel, que tu oyó de Pablo_," Ortiz asked.  ("Miguel, have you heard from Pablo?")

"_No.  Pienso que él está con alguna ramera_."  ("No.  I think he's with some bitch.")

"_La ramera?  Qué ramera_?"  ("Bitch?  What bitch?")

"_Yo no sé.  Algún polluelo denominó Susan.  El la reunió una pareja de noches hace_."  ("I don't know.  Some chick named Susan.  He met her a couple of nights ago.")  This was a story supplied directly by Farron.  Dominguez had been with a woman named Susan before, and she would make a nice cover.

A look of recognition came over Ortiz's face.  "_Ah, Susan.  No era ella la ramera fea con tetas grandes_?"  ("Ah, Susan.  Wasn't she the ugly bitch with big tits?")

Miguel nodded.  "_Y con un igualmente grande como.  Sí, eso la es_."  ("And with an equally big ass.  Yeah, that's her.")  Another tidbit supplied by Farron.

Ortiz shook his head.  What would he do with Pablo?  "_Llámelo.  Obtenga su como sobre aquí, Miguel.  Tenemos mucho en hacer esta noche_."  ("Call him.  Get his ass over here, Miguel.  We have a lot to do tonight.")

"_Tu lo obtuvo, el jefe.  Venga en, el bebé, permitió's va_."  Miguel took his girl's hand and led her away.  ("You got it, boss.  Come on, baby, let's go.")

*  *  *

For more than an hour, the lone figure sat in Donovan's room and watched him sleep.  He didn't make a sound or move a muscle.  He wasn't sure how Donovan would react as soon as he saw him.  He was in a weakened condition and wouldn't last long if he tried to struggle and fight.  He leaned his tall frame back in the increasingly uncomfortable chair and crossed his arms over his chest.  Farron Donovan wanted to make amends once and for all.  Dominguez was the first man Farron had ever murdered, and he had done so to save his brother's life.  Years ago, he had left his twin to die, and Donovan had never fully recovered from that betrayal.  He had carried it with him throughout his life.  Farron had been an opportunist all _his_ life, and he had to admit that his 'good deed' involving Loralei was meant to be more of a hurtful thing than a good thing.  He had been smug, and he had clearly rubbed his brother's face in his victory.  He had to be right about something.  Yet, what had he sacrificed to best his brother?  What had he sacrificed his _entire_ life to best his brother?  Anything, everything, and nothing.  What did it mean, if anything?  Of course, he didn't expect his brother to wake up and hug him, to simply forget the past for just one act of attrition.  He had not only done it to save Donovan, but he had also been thinking of his wife as well.  Regardless of what happened between him and his brother, regardless of anything, he didn't want to see Loralei suffer needlessly.  He didn't want Donovan's child to grow up without her father.  He didn't want to see any of these horrors take place.  Would his twin understand?  Would he consent to mending the fence?  He closed his eyes and kicked back for a bit.  As soon as Donovan woke up, he would try to straighten out their relationship before he was sent away.  He would face a prison sentence this time; the _federales_ had made that no secret.  Farron didn't intend to fall asleep, but he did.

Donovan felt an intense twinge of pain that seemed to drive into every part of his body.  If it didn't relent, he might have to beg for painkillers.  When he turned his head, he noticed that he had a visitor.  He fixed his eyes on Farron's face for an undetermined amount of time.  The swelling in his eye had all but vanished, but the bruises were still vivid and extensive.  _He probably needs a hospital bed as much as I_, he thought.  After beating his twin senseless, he had wondered what his _true_ motivation really was.  Of course, he had taken after Farron because he had attacked Loralei, but that wasn't all of it.  Was it?  _Be honest with yourself_.  Probably ninety percent of his rage had to do with his wife, but the other ten percent was a different story altogether.  He was trying to pay Farron back for his shooting so long ago.  Back then, he had loved his twin deeply.  He would have literally died for him [and he almost did].  However, when Farron ran off and left him to die, a part of him had actually died.  It was an intense, horrifying feeling, and he couldn't deal with it.  He had held his feelings at bay for many years.  It had been easy enough.  Farron hadn't shown his face in a long time, and when he did, their meetings were brief and perfunctory.  Although he had resisted the idea of inviting Farron to his wedding, deep down inside, he had wanted his twin to attend.  He had wanted to share his happiness with the entire family.  He was still hurt, still tender, but he had been willing to give it a try.  Yet, Farron had done a stupid misdeed that triggered the rage and the hatred.  Did he really want to cut his twin out of his life?  Did he?  Did he want to cut Farron off from knowing his niece?  What if he and Loralei were to give their daughter a sibling?  Did he actually want to have and express such negative feelings for his brother?  What kind of an example would that be to his children?  What if they were to have twins?  What would he do?  How would he deal with it?  

He groaned a little against the pain and confusion.  After everything that had happened, Donovan was more confused than ever.  He had been stunned to see the gun in Farron's hand, and even more so when he realized that he had killed Dominguez, subsequently saving his life.  Something had crept into his heart, something that he hadn't wanted to acknowledge, not then or now.  He had felt gratitude and…love.  Yes.  Love.  He turned his head away and focused his eyes on the window opposite him.  It was too much.  It was all too much.  The case, his brother, the separation from his wife, and the impending birth of his first child had all swirled in around him in a suffocating wave.  He could never do one thing at a time.  Everything had to attack him at once.  It always did.  He wanted nothing more than to leave this infernal hospital, pick up his wife, and then disappear for a couple of years.  He didn't want to do anything other than maintain a role as husband and father.

"Are you all right, Frank," Farron suddenly asked.

For a moment, he didn't want to speak, he didn't think he _could_ speak.  "I'm fine," he spat stubbornly.  "What are you doing here?"

"Checking up on my baby brother.  Someone needs to look out for you.  Your _el equipo_ (team) is busily trying to solve this case for you.  They're tied up.  Your wife cannot come to you.  You need somebody, even if it is me."

"You can leave whenever you want," he said gruffly.  "I don't need a keeper."

"Frank, can we not get past this?  Can we not straighten out this mess we made?  I want to start my life over, and part of that includes finally making amends to you, and now to your wife.  I miss the way it was when we all were kids.  I miss that closeness, that sense of family.  I miss _you_."

Donovan refused to make eye contact with Farron.  He honestly didn't want to see the look on his face.  If he did, he might see sincerity, and he didn't know if he was ready for that yet.  "I can't deal with this right now.  Too much is going on, too much needs to be repaired.  I need time.  I can't simply forgive and forget within moments.  It has to be on my terms, or it won't be at all."

It wasn't exactly what he wanted to hear, but it also wasn't a rejection.  Some ground had been gained.  It was only a little ground, but it was better than nothing.  "I can agree to that."

*  *  *

The sound of yipping and yelling drew the immediate attention of Alex and Jake.  Apparently, the shipment had arrived.  Ortiz began shouting orders in Spanish, demanding that the men move and move quickly.  If the _federales_ were to arrive, hundreds of arrests would be made, and an equal amount of lives would be lost.  Jake stood back with the _jefe_ and watched as the men began unloading the 'cargo.'  Jake had never seen so much cocaine in his life.  He wondered how much this shit was worth on the street.  Amazing.  Beside him, Alex whistled.  He could see by the look on her face that she was just as blown away as he.  Incredible.  Ortiz seemed very proud of his load, and he strutted around like a proud father after the birth of his baby.  However, this stuff was one expensive baby.

"_La cocaína colombiana pura, Miguel.  Nada podría ser más dulce.  Seremos hombres ricos, mi amigo.  Los hombres muy ricos_," Ortiz cried triumphantly.  ("Pure Colombian cocaine, Miguel.  Nothing could be sweeter.  We're going to be rich men, my friend.  Very rich men.")

"_Quizá usted será presos rico_," Jake said loud enough for only Alex to hear.  ("Maybe you'll be rich inmates.")

"_Ah, hombre de amante, puede tomamos algún hogar_," Alex asked excitedly.  ("Oh, lover man, can we take some home?")

Alex and Jake waited patiently for backup to arrive.  Any moment now, they expected every anti-drug group, anti-crime task force, anti-everything to descend upon the warehouse and break up the entire operation.  Both of them were anxious to see it happen.  This case, this whole place, sucked to high heaven.  Plus, they were all worried about their fearless leader and his wife.  There was so much going on.  They heard the vibrating thump of an approaching helicopter.  Neither of the UC agents knew if it was friend or foe.  Their answer came when a booming voice announced in English and then in Spanish:  "FEDERAL AGENTS.  DROP YOUR WEAPONS."  The air was suddenly filled with bursts of gunfire.

*  *  *

"So, Mr. Donovan, in about a week, we'll release you.  But you must have at least three more weeks of bed rest.  I don't want you moving around any more than necessary, which includes riding or driving.  I don't want you making trips any more than three or four miles.  Anything longer than that is strictly forbidden.  You need this time to heal properly.  That wound of yours is pretty bad."

Donovan stared at the doctor incredulously.  "Three weeks," he spat.  "I cannot be confined to bed for three weeks.  I have to leave.  I have to go to my wife."

"Mr. Donovan, I have the option of keeping you here for that entire time, you know.  You need the time to heal," he repeated.  "If you were to reopen your wound, the healing time would double.  There is also the possibility of infection.  Maybe you can send for your wife?"

"Not possible," he said offhandedly.  She was sick herself, and there was no way he wanted her to see him like this.  Three weeks.

*  *  *

The _federales_ dropped in and seized the cocaine and arrested as many people as they could, including Jesus Ortiz.  The grand drug and arms dealer went down quietly, vowing to return.  Of course, he wouldn't return for thirty or forty years.  Alex and Jake left the scene virtually unscathed.  They returned to the makeshift office and began packing up their gear.  

Donovan had been released from the hospital by the time they were ready to leave, and he literally ordered them to go.  He settled back into his hotel room and followed his doctor's orders to the letter.  However, he wasn't a damn bit happy about it.  He called Loralei almost every day, and almost every day, he found himself spinning some horrible lie that she would never forgive [and rightfully so].  She was tired almost all the time now.  He could hear it in her voice.  His sister kept pretty good tabs on her, and said that she would start feeling better when he came for her.  However, at that point, it was very likely the baby would be born in Florida.  Ironically, Loralei, too, was advised to stay in bed as much as possible.  

As it turned out, Farron was once again granted immunity for aiding the _federales _with the drug bust and taking out Dominguez.  He actually hadn't wanted immunity.  He expected and wanted some type of punishment, perhaps as another way to redeem himself.  He visited Donovan frequently, had even snuck down to check out Loralei for his brother.  It wasn't something that Frank had asked of him, it was something he just did.  The relationship between Farron and Frank wasn't necessarily smooth and peachy.  Frank had basically begun to _tolerate_ Farron's presence more than anything.  There was still a lot of hurt and a lot of shit to work through.  However, Donovan's heart had begun to heal right along with his knife wound.

*  *  *

Loralei was fast asleep.  She was so deeply asleep that she probably wouldn't have felt a strong earthquake.  She wasn't even aware of the bedroom door creeping open, nor could she see the light from the living room flooding into the quiet darkness.  Anya stood in the opened doorway.  She had led Donovan to the room.  He hadn't even been inside her new house yet.  He stood gazing at his wife for a long time before he even made one move toward the bed.  There was so much he had missed, so much time had passed, and he hated himself.

"She'll be happy to see you.  I think your presence will do her a world of good," Anya whispered with a smile.

He nodded and kissed Anya's cheek.  "Thank you for everything you have done."

"Don't waste your kisses on me.  She needs them."

Donovan entered the room as quietly as possible.  His sister only lingered a few seconds before stepping back and closing the door behind them.  He walked over to the bed and gazed at her calmly sleeping face.  Dear God, she was beautiful.  Nothing had ever been more beautiful to him.  Carefully, he slid into bed beside her [mindful of his wound] and pressed his lips to her forehead.  Loralei felt the gentle kiss, and of course, thought she was dreaming.  There was a body in bed with her.  The body felt and smelled like Donovan's.  Surely not.  This was some cruel dream, and once she opened her eyes, she wouldn't see anything more than an empty pillow.  Slowly, reluctantly, her eyes opened and focused on Donovan's face.  He was smiling down at her gently.

"Oh God, oh Frank," she said softly, her voice breaking with tears [_hormones be damned_].  

He wrapped his arms around her and drew her body against his.  "Shh, hey, it's okay.  You don't have to cry."

She buried her face into his chest and held onto him for dear life.  "No, you don't understand," she said.  "I thought I was dreaming.  It's been so long, and I've missed you so much.  Don't ever let me go again.  Ever.  Ever.  Ever."

"I won't, and I'm sorry I had to, Loralei."

She raised her head and began planting soft kisses all over his face, his eyes, his lips, and his neck.  He returned every kiss in kind and tightened his hold on her body.  Her hand slid down his side, and he drew in a hissed breath as it made contact with his wound.  Without a word, she drew away and lifted his shirt.  Her eyes immediately saw the wound.

"What happened to you," she asked, fresh tears welling in her eyes.  "What?"

"Just an accident, Loralei.  I'm fine, baby, don't worry about me," he said softly.

"No," she insisted stubbornly.  "Is this what you were hiding from me?  Is this why you stayed away?"

Incredibly ashamed of himself, he nodded.  "Yes.  I'll understand if you hate me, if you want to hit me, or kick me out, but I couldn't tell you.  Not like this.  I did it to protect you from further harm.  When I heard you were ill, there was no way I wanted you to come to me.  I couldn't risk it.  I love you, and I hope you can forgive me."

She kissed him again and then buried her face into her favorite secure place.  "I don't care," she said.  "You're here.  Nothing else matters.  Nothing else is more important to me right now than having you in my arms.  I love you, baby, I love you so much.  Don't leave me.  I need you to stay for a while.  Can you?  Please?"

He closed his eyes tightly and caressed her soft, soft hair.  "You couldn't beat me away.  Not now.  Not ever."

*  *  *

**ONE MORE CHAPTER.  THANKS FOR ALL YOUR PATIENCE AND FEEDBACK.**

**** I put this comment in the fic due to a conversation I have had numerous times with other UC fanfic writers.  We muse about all the injuries, pain, anguish, and heartache we put Frank through.  Just thought I'd sort of throw that in there as an inside joke!  Once again, thanks!  Thanks also goes out again to Ardeths Lover [Deana] and TheDreamyOne [Shelley] for their assistance, advice, and for reading my sappy sneak peeks!


	13. The Donovan Baby Cometh

CHAPTER 13—THE DONOVAN BABY COMETH

Loralei sat up [or tried to, anyway, her stomach was humungous] and peered curiously around the room.  The shades were still drawn, but Donovan wasn't beside her.  It had to at least be dawn.  Otherwise, her husband would still be in bed.  Struggling just a little, she swung her legs over the side of the bed in a position that made a nodding acquaintance to sitting up.  She was in that embarrassing awkward phase of her pregnancy, and she absolutely couldn't wait to have this baby.  She had grown tired of her hugely pregnant clumsy body.  She wanted her normal, albeit equally clumsy, body.  She placed her hand onto her stomach as she felt the familiar kicking sensation.  It appeared that her unborn daughter rather enjoyed sleeping in as well, and when Loralei arose earlier than usual, the rotten kid tended to kick the heck out of her.  

"Ow," she groaned.  "Knock it off in there, will you?  You kick like a Missouri mule."

"Her mother is as stubborn as one."

She looked up at her husband, mocking his lifted eyebrow thing.  "Her _mother_ is stubborn?  You're funny.  Have you ever thought of taking your act out on the road?"

"Somebody is cranky," he said with a mischievous smile.

"No, not cranky, you're just being a wise guy.  This is so unfair.  Women have the periods, they carry the babies, they look like beached whales when they're pregnant, and they endure labor pains.  Men just stick it in, get their jollies, and lay back."

She had recited her speech with very little malice in her voice.  He shook his head and his smile expanded.  "I would say I'd trade places with you," he said, and then paused for a second, "but I don't think so."

"You jerk," she said, not unkindly.

He moved to climb onto the bed behind her.  His hands fell on her shoulders and he began to knead them gently.  "Two more weeks.  Can you hold out that long?"

She snorted.  "As if I have a choice?  Haven't you heard?  The first baby is never on time.  I could still be pregnant this time next year."

"Loralei, I think you might be exaggerating just a little."

"Who?  Me?  Exaggerate?  Never," she said.  She sighed.  All the flippancy in the world couldn't put off the inevitable.  "What time does your flight leave?"

"Couple of hours," he said.  Donovan had made arrangements to fly back to Chicago for a couple of days to complete a little left over paperwork from the Dominguez case.  He also needed to finalize his leave of absence before the baby came.  "Anya is driving me to the airport in about twenty minutes."        

"Yuck, I don't like the sound of that.  Will you promise me something, Frank?"

He placed a kiss atop her head.  "Anything."

"If you get stabbed or anything while in Chicago, please be kind enough to tell me.  Okay?"

He smiled.  "You're never going to let me forget that, are you?"

She laughed.  "Nope."  

Donovan lowered his body just a bit to allow his lips to caress the side of her neck and shoulder.  

"Don't _even_ start something you can't finish," she said softly.

He groaned in mock frustration.  "Oh, all right."  He shifted his body again, and plopped down beside her, jostling the bed.  His hand moved to the small of her back in a soothing caress.

Despite the wonderful back rub, she gave him a dirty look anyway.  "Where in the hell are you getting all this damn energy, Frank?  It's very annoying."

Donovan gently took hold of Loralei's arm.  "Come here," he said.

"Uh uh," she protested as she tried to shrug away from his grasp.  "Don't get all sexy on me right now.  I'm in no condition to accommodate you," she said haughtily.  

With little effort, he turned her to face him.  "Loralei, come here."

She leaned toward him.  "What do you want," she asked exasperated.

"This," he said as his lips took hers.

"Damn you," she whispered against his lips after the kiss was broken.  "I told you not to do that."

"Can't help it," he said.  "I love you too much."

She drew away from him and grabbed the robe lying at the foot of the bed.  She shrugged into it and stood up.  He followed her lead and drew her into his embrace.  He kissed her again briefly and then laid his hand on her stomach.  His touch was met with a swift kick.

"Did you tell her to do that," he asked suspiciously.

She smiled a little.  "We females tend to conspire."

He leaned down just a bit and planted a gentle kiss where his hand had lain just a few moments ago.  He looked up at her with yet more mischievousness gleaming in his eyes.  "Are you sure there aren't two in there?"

"Oh, bite me, Donovan."

He kissed her forehead.  "Maybe later.  I have a plane to catch."

She took his hand and walked out with him to the living room where Anya waited.  "Miss you already," she said.

He raised her hand and kissed it.  "Me too," he said.

"Are you going to be okay here by yourself," Anya asked.  "I could always call somebody to sit with you."

Loralei shook her head.  "I'll be fine."  She released Donovan's hand and stepped back away from him.  "Scoot, Frank.  The sooner you leave, the sooner you'll be back."

"No more than two days," he promised.

She rolled her eyes dramatically.  "Anya, drag your brother along.  If you don't, he'll miss his flight."      

Loralei followed Anya and Donovan out to Anya's car.  He gave her another hug and a kiss before he finally climbed in the car.  After they left, she waddled back up to the house.  Ugh.  Just walking across the yard tired her out.  As she stepped into the living room from the foyer, she had intended to go into the bedroom to get dressed.  She thought better of it.  Why in the world did she need to get dressed?  Where was she going?  Besides, nothing fit anymore anyway.  She padded into the kitchen.  She suddenly had a burning yen for apple juice.  Normally, she absolutely hated the stuff, but in the last month or so, it seemed as if she subsisted on it.  She reached out to grasp the handle on the refrigerator and stopped abruptly as she felt a pain seize her, seemingly centering in her back.  It didn't last very long, but during it, she was fairly incapacitated.  She had been having those weird contractions for a while [Batton Haste…Brickton Height…or some shit she couldn't remember], but they didn't necessarily hurt.  She had had a backache for a couple of hours, but nothing like this.  _No_, she thought, _it's too soon_.  After she recovered, she went about getting her apple juice as if nothing had happened at all.

She took her glass of juice and made her way back toward the living room again.  She felt weird, as if something was acutely out of place.  _You're losing your mind, Loralei Donovan_, she thought.  She sat down on the couch, making herself as comfortable as she could and sipped tentatively at her juice.  Oddly enough, five minutes ago, she had wanted that juice more than anything.  However, once she took the first sip, it was suddenly distasteful.  Her back ached miserably, as if there were a rock stuck in there somewhere.  Nearly gagging on the apple juice now, she set the glass aside and clumsily drew her legs beneath her body.  She intended to rest for just a little while until Anya came back.  However, her nap was short-lived.  About ten minutes after she closed her eyes, she felt a second pain.  _This is insane_.  She wasn't due for two more weeks.  What the hell?  The pain subsided after half a minute.  A little nervous now, she stood up and began pacing the room a little.  She wondered why she felt the urge to move.  It wouldn't chase anything away.  Only when the third pain hit did Loralei finally accept that her child didn't give a damn about time lines.  Vaguely, she wondered how close Donovan was to the airport.

Loralei turned to get to the phone hanging in the kitchen, but some idiot knocked on the door.  Ugh.  _This better not be Avon calling_, she thought.  When she turned toward the storm door, she could see that her caller was not the friendly neighborhood Avon lady.  It was Farron.  Farron's relationship with her husband was strained, but at least nonviolent.  However, Loralei didn't quite trust him yet.  She had steered clear of him when he visited, but now she had no choice but to face him.  By now, she was convinced she was in labor, or pretty damn close to it, and she had no time to fart around with her brother in-law.  Her mind was set on finding her husband.  

She made her way to the door slowly, stupidly figuring that if she didn't walk fast, no pain would seize her.  "Neither Anya nor Frank is here right now," she said as she opened the door.  "She took him to the airport."

Farron noted that she didn't look well.  Her face was strained.  "Are you all right," he asked.

"Sure," she said, lying.  She didn't feel even _close_ to all right.  "I'll tell Anya you stopped by."

"Loralei, I know you don't like me, and I can't blame you.  But I want to make things right with you as well as my brother.  Frank and I are trying to repair our brother bond, and I'd like to make amends to you any way I can.  What I did was stupid and foolish, and Frank paid me well for that deed."

"Farron, I feel really rotten right now, and I'm in no mood to converse.  Would you-"  Her voice was cut off abruptly as another pain took hold.  Ten, ten, and five.  _Good God_, she thought.

Concerned now, Farron took gentle hold of her forearm.  "Loralei?  You're not all right."

"No shit," she spat once the pain subsided again.  "I can't be in labor, I still have two more weeks."        

"You must go to the hospital," he said.  "Come with me, my car is right outside."

"No," she said stubbornly, "I need to find Frank."

"There may not be time for that.  Please, Loralei, come with me.  I don't care if you like me, hate me, or mistrust me.  Let me help.  Once you're at the hospital, I'll find Frank, I promise."

She wanted to deny him, wanted to go her own way, but he was right.  She wasn't due for two weeks, and something might be wrong.  She had carried this baby far too long, had loved her far too long to lose her now.  "Okay," she spat grudgingly.

*  *  *

Anya was just about to leave her brother, but she heard his name being announced over the PA system.  Donovan glanced back at his sister as if thinking 'was I paged?'  Without a word, Anya nodded.  Donovan and Anya went in search of the phone.  He felt an uncomfortable lurch in his stomach at the thought of being tracked here.  He was certain that something had happened to his wife.

"Donovan," he barked into the phone.

"Frank, it's Farron.  How soon can you get to the hospital?"

Panic threatened to seize his heart and squeeze the life out of it.  "Hospital," he spat stupidly.  "Loralei?"

"Yes.  It appears that your child intends to make an earlier appearance than expected.  Your wife is in labor, and right now, she refuses to give birth until you get there," he said, his voice slightly exasperated.

"Refuses to give birth," he spat.  "What the hell is she saying?  Goddamn, regardless of how stubborn she is, she can't control this."  _Why am I still standing here_, he thought.  "Call and tell her I'm on my way."  He had no idea that Farron had taken his wife to the hospital.  He hung up and turned to his sister.  "Give me your keys, I have to get to Loralei.  The baby is coming."

*  *  *

When Donovan arrived at the hospital, he didn't even see his brother.  He was focused solely on finding Loralei.  She lay on a hospital bed and looked so very uncomfortable.  According to the OB/GYN, she wasn't far from active labor.  The doctor was only slightly concerned about the thirty-four week delivery, but didn't expect any complications, especially since she was brought in so early.  Currently, she was relatively coherent and not quite combative.  However, he was certain that would change any time.  Donovan went to her bedside and kissed her forehead.

Loralei smiled a little.  "It seems as if she didn't want you to leave, either."

"No," he said.  "How long were you in pain before you came?"

She shrugged.  "I didn't really notice.  I wanted to find you, but Farron insisted I come to the hospital.  Kinda glad he did, she's a little early."

"Farron brought you here?"

She nodded.  "Yeah.  I didn't want to, but he pushed."

*  *  *

"So, Daddy, here's your girl," the doctor said as she handed the infant to Donovan.

He took his tiny six-pound daughter into his arms and indescribable emotions flooded through him.  In his arms was an extension of himself and the woman he loved, and he couldn't move, think, speak, or breathe.  Was it shock or the paralyzing hold of love?  The slight weight of her body felt heavenly.  Overwhelming emotion overtook him, and tears began to touch his cheeks.

*  *  *

Farron and Anya looked up as Donovan entered the waiting room.  He was still decked out in the ridiculous looking blue surgical gown.

"Frank?  Are they okay," Anya asked as both she and Farron stood.

He nodded.  For a moment, he couldn't speak.  He was afraid he'd start crying again.  "They're just fine," he finally said, "and stunningly beautiful.  We're calling her Rachel."  He approached Farron.  "You brought her here for me?"

Farron nodded.  "Yes.  Since the baby was early, I thought it best that she come now instead of waiting.  I didn't want anything to go wrong."

Donovan stunned Farron [and Anya as well] when he hugged him for the first time in years.  "Thank you," he said, his voice breaking ever so slightly.  "I will never forget this."   

THE END 

**(There may be another story in this series shortly, but there's that little thing called a plot!  Thanks for all your reviews and following Loralei and Frank through yet another adventure).**


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